Shore of Dreams
by Catiegirl
Summary: After the death of Marilla, a broken Anne finds herself as the teacher at Four Winds, needing a new beginning. Gilbert has been the town's doctor since the death of his uncle, and finds himself now confronting his past and an Anne barely recognisable as the girl he once loved. Old feelings begin to resurface and the two of them must unravel the grief of the past to start again.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the story I never expected to write- I honestly thought I'd exhausted every idea I would ever come up with to do with Anne and Gil. It turns out I was wrong. For everyone who has walked with me through One More Day With You and When Tomorrow Comes, thank you. I hope you enjoy this story, it's a very different walk through our favourite couple's relationship. It's definitely an AU, and it was inspired by someone commenting that no matter what, the two of them would always end up together. I quite agree. I think we all need to believe that second chances are real. So with more excitement that I would have believed possible, I'd like to introduce to you _Shore of Dreams._**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The summer had drawn to a close around the little seaside town, and a cool wind came blowing in across the waters. The summer visitors were swiftly departing their holiday cottages for home, and as a lone woman stepped off the train at the busy station, she smiled at the sight of harassed mothers and restless children, their fathers more intent on the paper than on children squirming on railway seats. The smell of scalding metal and wood smoke filled the air, and all around her was the sound of the hissing engine and the shuddering of the ground beneath her feet.

Few looked twice at the woman as she moved in the opposite direction to the bustling crowd. Her hat was pulled over her eyes, and as she took a sturdy walking stick in one hand she lifted the carpet bag she held in the other a little higher, making her way to the ticket office. She had been told that a Mr Jones would meet her train, and the station master was quick to find him amongst the crowd. Within a short time, her belongings were being placed in the back of a wagon and she was being assisted to sit beside the brown-bearded man with a thankful sigh.

As they drove, he spoke to her at length of the fish market and the whales that had been spotted offshore, the price of beets in town and the fact that the town's doctor seemed to finally have himself a girl; and of the strange rash his father got after eating a bad clam. The woman suppressed a little smile, choosing to be diverted by the turns of conversation deemed interesting in a small town, and she cheerfully discussed the benefits of calamine lotion over salt water to help stave off the dreaded spots. By the time they had arrived at their destination, the man was utterly charmed by the conversation of the pleasant-faced young lady. He took care to help her down from the buggy, seeing the slight frown that creased her forehead at the movement and reached out a hand to steady her as she touched down to the ground.

"Thank you, I'm sure that it will become easier once I have loosened up a little. Would you be able to bring my things inside the house?"

As the big man began to unload her trunks, she walked to the front door and sighed in relief as it opened immediately. The housekeeper who stood there looked in askance at the walking stick, bringing an amused look to the younger woman's face. She shifted the bag to her other hand and looked up at the stone house with interest.

"It's very nice to meet you, at last, Miss," the housekeeper said kindly, opening the door wider to allow the driver to pull the trunks inside the grey house. The smile she was given heartened her wonderfully, and she wiped her hands capably on the wide apron that she wore. "You must be real thankful to be here, at last. It's all ready now, the house was in fairly good order before I got here. According to Mr Jenkins, the school board had it painted only a short time ago."

By this time the woman was moving around the small house with a look of interest, her hand running over the little table with a smile. It was small but pleasant. The fireplace in the living room crackled in a friendly manner, and she could already smell freshly baked goods coming from the kitchen. She drew in a deep breath, spying the open doors of the downstairs bedroom. This she moved into now, seeing with pleasure the simple furnishings and the low window that opened out to the garden. The driver was thanked and paid for his trouble, and when the door closed behind him she placed her carpet bag on the floor and began to work at the buttons on her overcoat. She turned and smiled at the housekeeper.

"Well, I think this will do very nicely, Miss Baker," she said, turning to study the rest of the house. "Do you need time to get yourself settled?"

"No, ma'am, I was able to do that this morning." A funny look came over the housekeeper's face. "Ma'am, if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you'd just call me Susan."

The woman laughed, as she pulled the hat pin from the little hat that she wore. "On one condition- that you don't ever refer to me as Ma'am again. It makes me feel terribly old."

Susan gave a little chuckle herself. "I think you're hardly out of school yourself."

An auburn eyebrow tipped upwards. "You might be surprised."

Susan went back to the wide stove and proceeded to fill her teapot, as she watched the lady move around the room looking carefully at her new home. Susan's eyes narrowed, her eyes on the teacher's limp. It was caused by a severe fall, that much she knew from the letters the two of them had exchanged. She turned back to the biscuits warming in the oven, still unable to believe her luck in finding this position. It was purely by chance that Carter Flagg had spoken to her mother about the last meeting of the school board. The new schoolmarm required a housekeeper for the cottage that sat beside the school, and it was not far from her mother's- she could keep an eye on her as well without neglecting her job. And there was something about her, as well- she could tell that from her writing. As Susan moved the tray to the table, she looked up to see the lady removing the hat from her head, her eyes widening at the colour of her hair. She watched her turn with a smile to sit down, her grey eyes thoughtful.

"Would you like this in the sitting room, Miss?"

There was an amused look that hovered on her face, and she shook her head. "Susan, dear; we may as well get one thing straight now. You are not here as a servant, nor am I in the slightest bit inclined to stand upon ceremony in my own home. I should think that we will become very good friends. Please, won't you sit down and share a cup of tea with me?"

Susan's surprise showed on her face, however, it was soon overcome with a smile that she couldn't seem to help, as she sat down at the table. "Shall I call you Miss Shirley, then?"

She shook her head, but her smile was sweet.

"Please, just call me Anne."

* * *

When Anne had lived at the little house for five days- now freshly christened Rosewood Cottage after the tangle of plants that she had found at the foot of the garden, a bewildered Susan felt as though she must have always been there. From the way she would thank her for her assistance with an affectionate pat on the arm, to the way Susan had to go chasing her with her walking stick amongst the trees that bordered the schoolhouse; to the vases of flowers on every available surface- the ones that did not have books on them already. Anne had arranged the house as she had seen fit, all the while contriving to make Susan feel as if the two of them had decided on the changes together. She had a laugh that sounded like a bell in the old house, and yet at times, a look would cross her face that seemed to hurt more than tears would. To this look, Susan had learned to not respond, that soon she would shake herself and be at work once more.

It had only taken a day to learn that Anne did not wish to discuss her injury with anyone. She would only shake her red head with a smile, insisting that there were greater stories in the world that needed to be told. Susan had been asked by townsfolk eager for information about the new school teacher, to which she could only reply that Miss Shirley's business was her own. For Susan's own part, she was learning to look for clues.

That she was in mourning was immediately obvious. Susan had taken several trunks of clothes that had arrived to the attic, brighter and far dressier ones that made Susan sigh, wishing Anne would choose them instead. The black hardly did the younger woman any favours, and she so wanted her to make a good impression that Sunday at church. Already she had heard the whispers of the townsfolk, wondering that the elusive Miss Shirley hadn't visited the grocery store herself yet- was she so above everyone that she sent her maid? And what was with the alterations she had demanded to the schoolhouse? Joshua McAllister had put a rail in beside the steps of the schoolhouse and was now working on creating a path to the teacher's cottage. Mr Pritchard had never required that- and yet _he_ had been sixty-four.

With only a week to prepare before the start of the school year, Anne had traversed the winding path between the back garden and the old schoolhouse daily, preferring to spend her mornings setting up for the year ahead. The previous teacher had left comprehensive notes behind, and Anne sat at the broad timber desk in the warm sunlight, familiarising herself once again with the curriculum. Twenty-three bright young faces would be on her doorstep come Monday morning, and she would be there to greet them. Susan had been able to give her some background on most of the families, slipping in little comments about life in Glen St Mary.

Anne pushed back from the desk with a little sigh, her eyes wistfully on the trees waving in the wind. Susan had followed her that morning, insisting that her washing could wait until she had swept the schoolroom out and washed the windows. Anne had planned on tackling those the next day, but capitulated when Susan insisted that the cottage was as clean as it could possibly be- and that she didn't see why a teacher should have to wash her own windows as well. Anne thought back to the Avonlea schoolroom with a brief smile. Once a month she would devote a Saturday to that job- usually with him-

With practised indifference she stood to her feet, and walked around the room, studying the maps and charts that hung on the walls, including one of the island. With her finger, she traced the train line that ran to Avonlea, before pulling her hand away resolutely and stepping around the children's desks to her own. It would take some time for her to become accustomed to teaching younger children again- back to tiny boys and girls, big-eyed at sitting in the classroom, struggling to understand that A was _A_. Anne smiled. The difference that a year could make in the lives of young children had never ceased to amaze her.

What a difference a year could make in her _own_.

With a brief shiver, she turned her attention to the front of the classroom. For now, the work for the day was done, and soon she would be teaching once more. Less time to think, less trouble to distract herself. Gathering her basket in hand, she walked to the doors of the schoolhouse, calling to Susan that she was heading home for the day.

As she walked through the closely packed trees, Anne drew in a breath of fresh air, catching the hint of salt on the breeze. The pathway was almost clear now, and as she navigated the gate, she leant against it with a sigh looking up at her new home. The second story would almost exclusively be Susan's domain now. With the large bedroom and office on the lower floors, Anne would have everything she needed there. She gave a small shudder, remembering the trouble she had had in getting up and down the stairs at Green Gables- and just as quickly that thought was repressed as well.

As she pulled her skirt from the briars beside the path and shook off the dirt that clung to Marilla's walking stick, she walked through the back door of the house, only to fall into the comfortable chair before the fire.

Anne slowly raised her foot onto the step stool that Susan had procured, her forehead contracting in pain. She rolled down her stocking carefully, sighing at the telltale swelling of the ankle, and the deep silver scars that ran from her foot up her calf. Anne rubbed her face tiredly, and then unexpectedly felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat. Doctor Anthony had looked at her dubiously when she announced that she was going back to work; he had shaken his rough grey head many times, insisting that she take seriously the disability that had been thrust upon her. Anne's chuckle faded then. It was the reason she had handed in her resignation at Summerside- the place that had been her home for almost six years. The steep grounds and pace of the busy school had proved too much for her after her injury, and within a fortnight of her return in April she had written to the school board about standing down. In her letters, Katherine had encouraged her to try a smaller school first, to give herself time to heal again.

* * *

That evening, Anne was visited by three of the school trustees. The gentlemen had at first looked in askance at Anne's walking stick, and it had taken most of the visit for them to forget its presence. Anne tactfully spoke to them of her concerns as she had learned to do now- she knew what she was capable of, and had put much thought into managing her limitations in the classroom. The older of the three gentlemen had a twinkle in his eye as he compared the craftsmanship of his own cane- Anne explained with a smile that her own had once belonged to her guardian's mother. If there was a shake in her voice at that point, the men did not see- the bright look she presented convinced them alone of her good humour. As she served the men Susan's award-winning pound cake and Susan poured the tea with a look of grim satisfaction, glances were exchanged and Miss Shirley's appointment was confirmed. The men departed then, promising to make the alterations that would ensure the well-being of Glen St Mary's newest resident.

Anne saw them go with a smile, and while the gentlemen stood talking at her front gate, an exhausted Anne bid Susan good night, falling into her comfortingly soft bed. She thought that sleep would find her easily.

* * *

The low hoot of an owl could be heard in the nearby forest when the old clock struck one, and Anne listened to a ships' bell echo through the valley. She shifted on her pillows to see the moon shining through the trees, creating flickering patterns against the dull grey walls. The pattern of forget-me-nots had faded from the paper, leaving faint ghost-like impressions that caught the moonlight. Anne drew her knees up, trying to close her eyes against the sharp pain. It was a night not unlike so many she had spent in the hospital, in rooms that were never completely silent. A cough here, a patient whimpering several rooms over. When hot tears would fall from her cheeks into her hair, when she was unable to reach the handkerchief the nurse had kindly stored away. The pain would recede, they had said. It would become manageable.

Anne opened her eyes, her jaw set against the tears she had little time for now. They had never promised her that the memories would fade, that she would be unscarred. And she hadn't been.

Now resigned to another broken night, Anne let her mind go to the place she had been avoiding. Her imagination moved from room to room at Green Gables, stepping through the distant house like the ghost she felt herself to be. Her little white room lay as bare as it had been on her first night she had slept there- Anne had packed up all of her belongings with a heart that hurt terribly, knowing that it would be some time before she could return. The hallways were still, the kitchen fire cold, and Anne herself had pulled the doors closed behind her. Perhaps she would return in the summertime, she told herself. Meanwhile, white drapes lay over the furniture, and the once busy house would rest in peace under the same moon that shone down on her now.

When preparations were finished for the house to remain unoccupied, Mrs Lynde's family had taken the last of their mother's furniture from the house. The now elderly woman had embraced her warmly, promising to write when she was settled in Charlottetown. Anne said goodbye to her from the painfully tidy veranda, the chairs she and Marilla had once sat in now packed away in the barn. All was still.

When Diana pulled up at the gate, Anne was waiting for her there, pale and quiet. Thanking God that Fred had insisted the children remain at home, Diana wordlessly assisted Anne into the buggy and talked to her lightly of other things as they drove back to Lone Willow farm. Fred was at the other end to take the team, and Anne came inside to meet the chattering youngsters, who clamoured for attention from their favourite aunt. They waited as their mother had taught them until Anne was settled on the settee in the kitchen, and while Diana finished preparing dinner Anne listened to little Fred read from his new primer, while his sister sat beside Anne, bossily instructing young Jack to mind Aunt Anne's foot. Diana kept a careful eye on her friend, deciding that for now, the distraction would be a blessing.

Later that night, she left Fred half snoozing in the parlour over his farming periodical and walked to the back door. Anne was sitting on the lawn chairs with her back to the house. She had a shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders, and in the light of the new moon, Diana stood watching her with an aching heart. After pulling her own sweater from the hook, she let the door fall closed behind her, and walked to sit beside her friend. The two were silent for a time.

"Thank you for having me to stay, Di," Anne said quietly. "I want you to know how much I appreciate it."

Diana's throat closed over. "Anne, I wish you _would_ stay here."

She watched her friend give a little sigh. "You know I can't do that."

"I don't know anything of the kind-"

" _Diana_ -"

"Anne, this is your _home_ -"

Diana stopped when Anne stretched out a hand to take her own, her look gentle. "Di, I would do anything to be able to pick up where I left off in Avonlea- but I can't. I need to find work."

"You wouldn't _need_ to if you sold Green Gables-" Diana froze, seeing the look of grief on Anne's face. "I'm sorry darling, I didn't want to make this any harder for you."

Anne gave the ghost of a laugh. "It already _is_ hard, Di. I know. And the time may come when I will be ready to sell. But I can't right now. To do it would be like a slap in the face to Marilla- she kept the house for _me_. And I can't keep it up on my own- not like _this_." She gestured to the walking stick, and Diana sighed. All this had been discussed so many times- and she saw the look on Anne's face that said she would not yield.

"Glen St Mary is so far away."

Anne gave a wry smile. "Oh, I think I will manage just fine. Miss Baker sounds like a dear, and the school is quite close to the house."

Diana lifted her hands to rub her anguished face, wishing more than anything that she could put off this conversation. "Anne, I know we've talked about this- but you know that he might be there." There was a long silence then, and her hands fluttered drearily. "I'm sorry, darling, but I didn't want you to go in there unprepared."

If she hadn't heard Anne's exhale, she might have thought she was alone in the growing dimness.

"I still think it unlikely."

For the first time, Diana found herself growing frustrated in the face of Anne's calm exterior. "You can't _know_ that-"

"He always planned on working in a hospital first. He wanted a broader experience-"

Diana let out an exclamation. "Anne, doesn't this _matter_ to you? You came to me _six years_ ago-"

Anne turned to her then, her grey eyes showing such hurt that Diana halted immediately. Her voice was low. "Diana, I have _no home._ I can only work where someone is willing to give me a chance- and you know the Glen was the only school that got back to me. I can't stay here, Di. And I can't run from phantoms that may or may not exist. If he is there, it doesn't matter anymore, it _can't_. All I need to do is teach. I only need a corner to do that."

Diana wiped a tear from her dark eyes. "I'm sorry, Anne, I'm just- I'm worried. I won't be there, and I don't know what you're walking into- and I don't know if you can come back here easily."

Anne reached across to take Diana's hand, her eyes filling. "I know. But I'm trying- I'm just trying to have faith. Some faith in myself, some faith in- _something_. I promise you that I will be back here for Christmas."

Diana sniffled. "You had better mean that, Anne. I don't know who will cry more when you leave, the children or myself."

Anne stood up from the chair, holding the back to steady herself while she took up her walking stick with a shake of her red head, and a smile that tried to be cheerful. She held out her hand to her oldest friend and pulled her into a hug.

"I'll be alright, Di. I'll write as often as I can. And I can't thank you enough for the help you've given me this summer."

Diana wrapped her sturdy arm around Anne's waist, and the two of them set off towards the house again, Anne leaning on her friend. "We swore an oath, beloved. I'm always here for you."

* * *

Back in the present, Anne pulled her red hair over one shoulder, smoothing it over the white of her nightgown. She was here now, and in a better situation that she had hoped to find herself. She drew in a deep breath, thankful for small mercies, that she had a chance for a new beginning. The owl sounded again in the still night, and Anne lay back in bed with a deep sigh, listening to the unexpected sound of someone moving down the nearby road on horseback. Idly she wondered if it was perhaps a baker's apprentice coming to light the ovens for the not so distant morning. Or someone trying to make it to the harbour by sunrise, perhaps to meet a ship coming into shore. With a brief prayer for the safety of the rider, Anne closed her eyes firmly, willing her mind to find rest, to find a sleep without dreams.

Phantoms, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The bright moonlight shone down on the rider of the horse, and he swayed slightly in the saddle, his eyes sliding closed yet again. The tug of the reins in his hands brought him awake again as they passed a little house with ivy creeping up the stone, and he shook his head trying to focus on the road ahead of him. Thankfully the horse was as eager as he to get home, and within a short time the man was pulling off the saddle, almost falling asleep against the horse's flank as he brushed him down. Inside the house, he paused to rummage through the cupboard for the sandwich his elderly housekeeper had left out for him. The bread was stale and the jam inside gritty, but he ate it hungrily before dragging his feet to the bedroom on the lower floor. Taking only a minute to pull the boots off his feet, the man fell onto the sloppily made bed and within moments was asleep once more.

* * *

The morning sun was high in the sky when the shrill bell of the telephone cut through the air. Gilbert Blythe pushed himself up from the bed, squinting at the bright sunlight coming in through his window. He'd forgotten to close the curtains again. He sat up slowly, grimacing at the way his clothes had twisted around his body, and rubbed his lean face tiredly. By the time he had untangled himself from the blanket, Mrs Leary was knocking on the door.

"Doctor, the Perkins boy is better this morning, the parents said to not rush back."

Gilbert opened the door to his bedroom, to see Mrs Leary standing, her hands clasped disapprovingly.

"In your clothes _again_ , Doctor Blythe?"

He shrugged, yawning. "Three babies last night. Two at the Flanagan's. I didn't get back till two."

The elderly lady tut-tutted, shaking her head. "These people, having more children than they can properly feed-" She walked off muttering, and Gilbert turned with a sigh to wash and dress for the day.

As he peered at his face in the mirror over the basin, he ran a hand over his stubbly jaw, his mind on the two houses he had visited. The Flanagan's were indeed poor, and yet Gilbert had felt unexpected envy as he watched the scene unfold before him. The proud father stood with his two older children, both tousled from sleep, but running to the bed to meet their new brother and sister. Their worn out mother was almost asleep already, and Gilbert left the nurse clucking over the newcomers in the crib, while their father bent to kiss the top of his wife's head and to usher the children from the room. Gilbert had closed the door to their house behind him with a pang. They were happy- they had each other. What more could anyone want?

A few streets over had been the other family- as the night had deepened, Gilbert had arrived in time to assist the birth of the Cooper's fifth child, and the atmosphere could not have been more different. A grunt was all Gilbert was given when the father was told another girl had been born, and Gilbert heard the outer door slam as soon as he turned to check on the baby's mother. He'd given her a grin, told her how well she had done. The cold look she had given him had made his smile falter, and he turned to the baby, busying himself with checking the tiny thing over. A door opened behind him, and a girl of about twelve came into the room, her apron worn and dirty. At the woman's gesture, the baby was handed to the girl, and Gilbert froze as she looked up at him. The dull look in her grey eyes pierced him, and it was with a jolt that he saw the freckles on her nose and the flinch she gave when the woman ordered her out with the baby.

He splashed the water on his face after shaving, closing his eyes and allowing himself to acknowledge the toll the night had taken. He donned the clean shirt his housekeeper had left on the dresser, tucking himself in and turning to adjust his tie. He gave a slight shiver as he exited his door, and resolutely shook himself.

It was going to be one of those days. A haunted one.

Twenty minutes later he had his horse saddled, and closed the barn door behind him. Setting off with an easy pace, his tired eyes studied the town that had become his home. As the street rose before him, he lifted his hat for a group of elderly ladies standing on the corner, all talking eagerly. His office was conveniently across from the smithy, and he spent a few minutes talking with Eric Jones, who stabled the horse whenever he was in town. The man's brown beard was neatly tucked into his leather apron, and he threw back his head and laughed at a comment the doctor had made.

An hour later he stood at the little stove in his tidy office, waiting for the kettle to boil. He'd been writing up his case histories, and words and names had started to blend into each other. He'd looked down at old man Adams' file, seeing with some astonishment that he was apparently almost eight months pregnant. _Surely_ some coffee would help…

Just then, the bell on the door sounded, jolting Gilbert out of his abstraction.

"I do hope that's for me."

Gilbert turned to greet to the well-dressed man who ran the solicitor's office next door. "Alright, but we'll have to wait a bit."

Andrew Winston grimaced and grabbed Gilbert's coat from the peg near the door. "Nope. Come on, Mrs Sampson's got food too, and I'll bet you haven't eaten yet."

Gilbert laughed, and he pulled on his coat while Andrew turned the sign around, and the two men set off down the street. The trees that lined the streets were brilliant in their autumn dress of red and orange, and he breathed in the fragrance of the pines coming from the crossroads.

"Blythe, aren't you paying attention today?"

Gilbert turned in some dismay to see that Andrew had stopped outside the small tea room. "Sorry; long night. I've only had a few hours sleep."

Andrew rolled his eyes and pulled his friend in the door, striding up to the ladies behind the counter. Gilbert chuckled, watching the younger of the ladies bat her eyelids at the two of them.

"Patricia, the good doctor and I are in need of sustenance. Could you find it in your heart to provide us with nourishment?"

The woman shook her head with an amused expression, shooing the two men to the table. Andrew gave her an angelic grin, before sliding into his chair.

"See? No one goes unfed at Patty's place."

There was a small tightening of Gilbert's jaw, however, he couldn't help an ironic smile. So it _was_ to be this kind of day- and he knew now why it was happening.

"So, Penny was asking after you this morning," Andrew commented lightly. "She's hoping you'll come for dinner tonight."

Two steaming mugs of coffee arrived at that point, and Gilbert was able to keep his uncertain expression hidden. "Are you sure the _other_ lady in your life is keen for a visit from the doctor?"

Andrew laughed then. "Come on, Blythe, Lizzie adores you. She just doesn't like your cough medicine."

This made the Gilbert chuckle. Andrew's young daughter had complained bitterly about the medicine her father's normally nice friend had brought her last time he came around. In vain Gilbert had tried to make her take it, however, in the end, her father had to step in and insist.

Her aunt, however, was an entirely different matter.

The talk over the hearty meal was light, and Gilbert enjoyed the brief respite from his work. When Andrew left for an appointment Gilbert walked back down the street to his office, after being stopped by a blushing young lady, who asked if she could make an appointment with the doctor sometime. Noting the shiny new wedding band on her finger, Gilbert hid an amused smile and told her kindly to come to the clinic when she was ready. He shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk, idly watching the people moving up and down the busy street.

Penny Winston was Andrew's younger sister. She had come to live with him after the death of his wife, when little Elizabeth was only two years old. She had cared for her young niece wonderfully, and Gilbert knew that Andrew owed her an enormous debt of gratitude. He pushed back from his desk with a sigh. If he _did_ go there for dinner, he knew just what he would find. Penny's pleasant smile would work on him as it usually did, and the some of the stresses of his day would begin to subside. She never complained if he was late, or if Andrew dragged him through the door unexpectedly; never grumbled if Lizzie refused to go to sleep in the evening. She was quiet and capable, and the look in her blue eyes was always restful.

In short, he'd nearly made up his mind to do it.

* * *

At midday, Gilbert set his black hat on his head and locked the office door. To those who lived within walking distance he dropped in, checking toes and ears and a young child's arm. He walked back to collect his horse from the smithy, who was deep in discussion with one of the school trustees. Gilbert waved to him as he left. He was mounting his horse when he spied two women walking into a bookshop, pausing infinitesimally as he thought he caught a flash of red hair.

Gilbert heeled his mount and left the street, his brow lowered. _Every time_ , he thought with a grimace. Every single time he'd considered this his mind would begin to play tricks on him. As he got out on the open road, he nudged the horse into a run, needing the motion on the clear autumn day.

Haunting or not, it wouldn't work this time. Penny was pleasant and sweet, and she liked him- let the ghosts do what they may.

After he had collected the buggy for the longer drive, Gilbert looked appreciatively at the view from the top of the hill outside the town. Below him lay the road to the old lighthouse, and beyond that lay the gulf, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. Heartened, he drove the buggy up to the front of a vivid green farmhouse, calling a greeting to Marshall Elliot.

"Afternoon, Doctor. Cornelia's waiting inside, go on through. I'll take the horse."

Gilbert grinned, and walked in through the front door into the spacious sitting room, to greet a woman who was _supposed_ to be resting. Instead, fully dressed with a cold compress on her forehead, Mrs Elliot was indubitably sewing.

"Mrs Elliot, I did suggest that you might be better off staying in bed today," Gilbert said tactfully.

The kind brown eyes fixed on the young doctor, and she sniffed. "And I suggested that there was precious little work that could be done from there, and at harvest time, no less!"

Gilbert sat down, stethoscope in hand to listen to her chest. "It was a rather nasty influenza, Mrs Elliot. I don't take chances with that." He placed his fingers on her wrist, looking at his pocket watch. "Is your head still hurting?"

"Oh, I suppose it still does from time to time," she admitted. "And I'm just as happy for the quiet right now. Although I would like to know what mischief is happening down in the Glen."

Gilbert gave her a puzzled look. "Mischief?"

Cornelia reached for a handkerchief with a groan. "The hiring of the new Glen teacher."

The young man looked unconcerned. "Oh? Who is he?"

Cornelia looked triumphant. "It's not a he, but a _she_ , Doctor Blythe. An _unknown_ she."

He had opened his appointment book while she talked, seeing nothing about the case to concern him. "I was unknown a year ago, Mrs Elliot," he said with a smile.

Cornelia sniffed. "And don't think that the jury is out on you either, young man." This made him laugh, and the woman sat up with a sigh. "Your great-uncle practised here for over forty years- at least we knew of your family. Heaven knows I've nothing against a single woman, and it may be she is of the house that knows Joseph- but _crippled_! How on earth is she supposed to teach?" she said, incensed. "When Matthew Crawford came to see Marshall about the horses I let him know what I thought of that."

Gilbert frowned. "Crippled?"

Cornelia pushed of the settee then, her brown eyes impatient. "Yes, walks with a cane, Mrs McPherson said." Cornelia shook her head. "As soon as I'm on my feet, I'll pay her a visit and see what's what- word has it that Susan Baker is installed as the hired help."

Gilbert stood up, packing his things away. "Well, if she _is_ impaired, she'll need someone," he said diplomatically.

Cornelia rounded on him then, her eyes beady. "And what's this I hear about you and young Penny Winston?"

Gilbert gave what he hoped was a charming smile. "You know how quickly gossip spreads in a small town, Mrs Elliot. Miss Winston is the sister of a good friend."

"Hmmph," was all she would reply, and waited courteously for him to pick up his bag. "Well, I suppose, just like a man you'll think that you've cured me now, doctor."

Gilbert placed his hat on his head with a smile. "Mrs Elliot, I would never be so presumptuous."

She gave him a triumphant smile. "Well, it's clear your mother showed you some manners at any rate. We may keep you yet."

With a good-natured farewell, Gilbert walked to the front gate, where Cornelia's husband stood waiting with his horse. As he drove from the building that made the greenery around seem dull, he chuckled. Jeremy had warned him about this.

* * *

Almost fourteen months ago, Gilbert had been walking through the surgical ward of the Montreal hospital. His white coat was immaculate, and two harried young interns followed him, taking down notes and carrying patient files. He'd been about to step into the corridors when Jeremy accosted him.

"What do you think you're doing?" his enraged friend said, blocking his pathway, and making Gilbert look up, bemused.

"Rounds. What are _you_ doing?"

"Trying to stop a friend from throwing his career away, that's what!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "Oh, stop being so dramatic."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me that you were going to resign?"

A bored Gilbert thrust the file into the waiting intern's arms and strode down the brick halls. "My uncle died a month ago. He always wanted me to take over his practice."

Jeremy groaned. "Come on, let some other sap take the position, not you. Your career is _here_."

"Look, we can talk about this later-"

"No, we can talk about it _now_."

Gilbert stepped past him to turn to the elderly gentleman on the bed.

"Mr Samuels, how are we today?"

The gentleman dubiously looked past Gilbert to the impatient young man behind him.

"Did you want a second opinion, Doctor Blythe?"

Gilbert smiled charmingly. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's come for a refresher course. Now, Doctor Barnes, would you like to come over here and learn how to use a stethoscope?"

In front of the patient Jeremy would not retaliate, however, his face was scowling. "Thank you, _doctor_ , but I'll take that lesson another time. Perhaps when you finish today we could chat about your methods."

The door closed behind him, and Gilbert smiled innocently as he went to take the patient's pulse.

"I say, he's a rather intense chap, isn't he?" the little man said in some surprise.

Gilbert grinned. "He is? I hadn't noticed."

Later that evening, when the day's work was done the two of them sat back in the leather chairs of the club to talk.

"Blythe, I don't know what you're thinking," Jeremy commented, and Gilbert shrugged.

"You know I always planned on general practice, the hospital was only ever a means to an end."

Jeremy glowered. "I thought that was just inexperience talking. You _liked_ it here-"

Gilbert folded his arms. "Well, I did. But I was never going to stay here for good. I'd hoped to be in my own practice within the next twelve months. I'm tired of the politics of the place, and of people being treated like a number. Uncle Dave's death just- _hastened_ it a bit."

Jeremy ruffled his thick blond hair crossly. "But out there, you'll never be clean again-"

Gilbert almost dropped his drink at that, beginning to laugh. " _What_?"

"You'll be tromping around farms to find your patients- always smelling like a horse- you'll have every mother throwing their daughter at your head, and the older families will keep you at arms length- and there won't be any pretty little nurses to hand you your coat and gloves when you walk into a room," he said pessimistically, making Gilbert chuckle.

"I'll also have the great outdoors, and I won't be cooped up in rooms that smell of carbolic acid."

"And what's worse: you won't have any backup, the nearest hospital will be hours away- you'll be woken up all night long with the phone ringing, you'll have to do operations on kitchen tables with no one to assist you-"

Gilbert gave a sigh of exasperation as he faced Jeremy. "Look, that's why I did this _first_. So that the community gets the experience of a hospital surgeon, making me better equipped to function independently. I admit that it wasn't the plan in the beginning, but it was still the right decision. I'm ready to do some real good in a community that needs me. I'm going, Jeremy." He sat back with a slight smile. "You could always come visit me on the island."

Jeremy grunted. "I'd like to see that. Look, you find me an interesting case, and I'll consider coming."

"Saw-bones."

"Glorified butcher."

The two men laughed, and Jeremy slapped him on the back. "Alright, I'll wish you well under protest. But don't come crying to me when your best suit smells like horse sweat."

* * *

Gilbert rode along the winding harbour road, his hazel eyes studying the horizon where the white sails of fishing boats could be seen coming into port. The crispness of the air, the wildness and roar of the ocean seemed to fire the blood in his veins, and he kicked the horse up to a canter. Past a little white house nestled beside a fir wood, past a grey house almost hidden by willows. Gilbert looked down at his watch, suddenly energised. Three more patients to check on, and then he would head for home. Some congenial company and a good meal was just what he needed.

* * *

That evening, when a tired Lizzie was put to bed after asking her father _ever_ so many questions about the new teacher and the school she would attend, Gilbert sat in an easy chair across from Andrew, while Penny moved about making tea for the gentlemen. The fire crackled in the hearth, and Gilbert felt himself beginning to relax. Penny was lovely in a dress of pink, and on more than one occasion he had caught himself watching her, wondering what she would do if he asked her to go for a drive with him. Andrew had met his eyes with an amused look more than once, before taking pity on his guest and reading him an article of interest from the paper.

"Andrew, do we really need to discuss that murder case over tea?" his patient sister asked, after handing Gilbert a blue teacup. "I'm sure we can find something more interesting."

Andrew snorted. "You mean like the discussion about the new schoolteacher? That's all Lizzie could talk about."

Penny sat down on the chair closest to Gilbert, giving him a gentle smile. "She's only excited, Drew. It's her first day of school on Monday, and all the children are wondering what she will be like." She stirred her own tea, settling in the comfortable chair. "It's all the town can talk about too, it seems."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "The compact nature of rural life, I suppose. As long as she does her job, I don't see that it matters."

Penny looked thoughtful. "Do you suppose she really is crippled?"

Gilbert shrugged. "If she's teaching it can't be too bad. You need to be fairly limber to keep up with a classroom."

His friend chuckled. "That's right, you did a few years in the trenches, didn't you? I'm guessing it was so bad that it drove you to medicine."

Suddenly finding it hard to swallow, Gilbert cleared his throat, his eyes distant. "Best two years of my life, actually."

Penny's puzzled eyes swung to her brother's. Andrew soon changed the subject, and the moment passed.

When the big, old clock in the corner chimed ten, Gilbert gave a little sigh, and he stood to his feet. Of habit, he wandered to the fireplace, over which lay an ornate mantle in dark wood. Various family photographs were there, including a portrait of Lizzie's mother, and the little figurines she had loved. A tall, pale angel with auburn hair that had been her mother's, and a dainty girl in green standing beside a cherry tree all white with bloom. Carefully Gilbert picked up the figurine of a white china bird in a gilt cage, the green tips of its wings and face glowing in the firelight.

Penny walked to his side, a smile on her face. "You do seem to love that one, Gilbert. Why do you suppose that is?"

He set the figurine down with a sheepish look. "It reminds me of something, I suppose- although I don't remember what. My mother has hers over the fireplace too."

Penny handed him his jacket and hat, and Gilbert noticed with some chagrin that Andrew had made himself scarce again. He stepped away to shrug on the black overcoat, and the petite woman walked him to the door.

"Will we see you on Sunday, Gilbert? You know you're invited for dinner." Her smile was genuine, and he found himself smiling back.

"Of course- providing no one calls me."

The starlight shone overhead on a crystal clear night, the crisp air holding a hint of the winter to come. Penny was looking at him with contented eyes, and now that the moment was here Gilbert found himself recoiling from the question he had determined to ask. He stepped away with a small wave, his stomach churning. There was no rush, he had plenty of time. He would do it next time.

* * *

When Gilbert entered his empty house once more, he looked with a sigh at the fireplace that had gone cold. Mrs Leary did not work past five, and would not have thought to add more wood so late in the day. He went into his bedroom, pulling off his overcoat to throw over the rickety chair by his bed. As he stared out of the window that overlooked the empty street, the words of the minister's Sunday sermon came back to him.

 _It is not good that man should be alone._

Gilbert threw his boots into the corner and loosened the tie at his neck.

He'd been thinking about it for some time, why hadn't he just done it tonight?

Next time, it _had_ to be next time.

Maybe he would take the buggy on Sunday, ask her to come for a drive through the town- since she had said that she was frightened of the sea.

As Gilbert fell onto his pillows once more, he closed the curtains around the old fashioned bed he had picked up at an estate auction. The heavy fabric blocked out the usual night time sounds, and Gilbert lay in the darkness, with only the sound of his own breathing for company. When he closed his eyes, another starry sky over distant tree tops floated across his mind, the ghostly remnant of a haunted day.

Before any voice could echo through his mind, he turned his face into the pillow, resolutely determined to sleep.

Ghosts, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

On Sunday morning after the service, Anne stood with Susan surrounded by a large group of woman from the congregation of the Glen St Mary Presbyterian church. Anne's smile was pleasant, and proud mothers presented their children to the new teacher. Several of the trustees of the school stood at the gate to the churchyard, nodding in contentment. They had inspected the improvements to the building, including a railing under the chalkboard to make writing easier without using her cane. Anne had been deeply touched by the community's willingness to accommodate her, promising herself that she would do her very best for the little school. After Anne had met everyone, Cornelia Elliot, who had been standing guard over the young woman gave her a knowing smile. She had visited the little stone house in due course and had unhesitatingly pronounced Anne to be of the house that knew Joseph. Anne would be joining the Elliot's for dinner that day.

Anne was charmed by the view from the Elliot's house, which overlooked the sapphire waters of the St Lawrence Gulf. To her delight, the ocean was visible from the sitting room, and after dinner, the two women sat down in the pleasant room to have a cosy chat.

"So I fancy you met a good deal of us this morning, Miss Shirley," she commented briskly. "Are you all set for tomorrow?"

Anne nodded, with a thankful smile. "Yes. I am quite looking forward to getting to work."

Cornelia's eyes fell on Anne's walking stick. "Now, the busybodies will want to know how you're planning on teaching with that; have you given some thought on how to answer them?"

Anne's look was chagrined, however, she nodded. "I have some plans that I have discussed with the board, and I am fairly confident that it won't be an issue."

The older woman was stern, then. "I'll be sure to squash it if I hear any; it's hard enough for a woman in the world right now, I don't see that we should be running each other down when there is work to be done."

Anne sipped her tea and spoke without thinking. "I suppose the curiosity as to how I will handle it isn't surprising. I find myself wondering that as well."

Cornelia's look was sympathetic, and she bent forward to talk seriously. "Miss Shirley-"

Anne smiled. "Mrs Elliot, I do wish you would call me _Anne_. I fancy I will be Miss Shirley to most of the village for the foreseeable future."

The older woman looked at her guest with humour. "And _my_ friends know me as Miss Cornelia. I would be grateful if you would use that, Anne dearie." At Anne's puzzled look, she chuckled. "I only married Marshall last year." She looked at the young woman compassionately. "Your injury must only be fairly recent, I think."

Anne's face paled, and yet curiously, she found herself willing to talk to the enigmatic lady. "It is, I suppose. It happened in November last year." She was silent for a few minutes and looked over to meet kind, brown eyes. "I was teaching in Summerside, and while I was at school last year I had a bad fall." There was quiet in the room, and Miss Cornelia pressed Anne's hand in her own. Anne smiled, her eyes distant. "I was in the hospital for several months- and the bones didn't heal as well as they hoped. Summerside were willing to have me come back to my position- however, I couldn't keep up with the pace of the school any longer. I needed to find work somewhere quieter, somewhere I could maintain a smaller classroom. And I am very grateful to find myself in the Glen."

Miss Cornelia was thoughtful. "As glad as we are to have you here, were there no places close to your hometown then? Do your family not wish you closer?"

At the look of pain that came to Anne's face, Miss Cornelia saw that an invisible line had been crossed. "Forgive my curiosity, dearie. There are precious few secrets in a small town, as I am sure you are well aware- and you are easily the most interesting thing to come here in a year."

Anne gave a slight laugh. "I understand, Avonlea is much the same."

Cornelia looked up with some astonishment. " _Avonlea_?"

Anne smiled. "Yes, on the north shore."

"Well, then, you must know Doctor Blythe."

Anne's breath caught, and her cup clattered onto the ivory saucer. She placed it down on the table beside her, a shaking hand smoothing her black crepe skirts. "I- I know of the family, yes. Is it-" she drew in a deep breath and willed her voice to stop trembling. "Is it the _senior_ Doctor Blythe?"

"No, dearie. He passed away a year ago, I'm afraid. His great-nephew took over the practice."

"So- his- his nephew- is _here_ -"

"Great nephew, yes dearie. He's smart enough, I grant you- still thinks he can cure the common cold no doubt- but so far folks around here are fairly happy with him."

Anne gave a faint smile and exhaled. "Well. If anyone could cure it, it would be Gilbert." At Miss Cornelia's incredulous look, Anne hastened to explain. "He and I went to school together. He is quite- quite exceptional."

Miss Cornelia looked at her shrewdly. "What do _you_ think of him then, dearie?"

Anne's face was a study as she tried to form an answer, however, in the end, no reply was necessary- the last word belonged to Miss Cornelia.

"I quite agree with you. I'd never tell _him_ that, though."

* * *

When Marshall Elliot dropped Anne home to the cottage, Anne slipped inside and leaned her head against the door with a long sigh of relief. She sat down at the table, removing her hat absently as she looked out of the window. Outside grey clouds were building, and Anne shivered at the thought of the long winter ahead. She gave an involuntary flinch, unable to prevent herself from imagining a silent green gabled house buried in snow. The white would cover the little graveyard too, over firs that whispered over those most loved.

Anne eventually pushed herself up from the table and began to prepare a bath in the washroom at the foot of the stairs. Within half an hour, she sank into a tub filled with the hottest water that she could manage. The lavender blooms that she had scattered over the water perfumed the air, and she lay her head back on the rim of the tub and closed her eyes, long strands of red hair swirling in the water that lapped around her shoulders.

So Di was right. He was here.

The thought didn't frighten her as much as she would have expected- and then she gave a wry chuckle. She hadn't lied to Diana- she couldn't afford for it to matter now. She supposed he would see her very little in the course of his work. Somehow picturing him as a doctor was difficult- she couldn't place the image of the boy she had known against the multitude of robed surgeons and white-coated physicians she had endured in the past year.

She raised her foot out of the water with some difficulty, inspecting it as she had been instructed. The ugly scar on the front of her shin made her pause, closing her eyes with thankfulness for the surgeons who had mended it as best as they could. She had been told it was a miracle to not be confined to a wheelchair- although Anne pessimistically felt that that could just have been a result of her stubbornness.

When the water began to cool, Anne climbed out of the bath and onto the mat that Marilla had woven, drying herself carefully. She slipped into her nightgown and robe, and moved out to the sitting room to sit before the fire to dry her long hair.

How would he react? Did he know that she was there yet? She shivered, remembering the words she had last heard him speak, the pain of the last time she had seen him. Had six years been long enough to forgive her, to forget? Could he allow her space in the town he had made his home? Unexpectedly she felt her pride begin to smart. Would he think that she had changed, that she had grown old? Her eyes fell on the wooden stick by the door and the heavy black garments hanging from a rail, and she covered her face for a brief moment with her hands.

Eventually, she rose to her feet, her chin rising. Pity wasn't relevant, she had realised that months ago. She couldn't stop others from doing it- she remembered well Phil's stumbling when she had visited her last year. She could not afford to succumb to it herself. It was simply a fact of life now. And Gilbert was a doctor- surely the injury would not unsettle him, surely he could look past it.

After a quiet supper alone, Anne checked that her school satchel was ready for the morning, and took herself to an early bedtime. Susan would be home later, she knew, and it was with relief that Anne blew out the lamp, the darkness in her room absolute on a night without starlight.

Remembering the wizened old doctor who had sat by her side through the long nights in the ward, she closed her eyes. _Breathing in, and breathing out._ Focusing on one moment, and then letting it surrender to another. When tomorrow came, she would be at work once more, and would find her place in a world that had felt alien for far too long.

* * *

Within a week of Miss Shirley's tenure with the school, the town was buzzing with reports of the new teacher. The girls adored the lady with the curly red hair and pretty smile, and the boys were pleasantly surprised- not that they would admit that to anyone. All one young man would say was that Miss Shirley was not as bad as he had expected.

On Friday night Miss Shirley hosted an informal meeting at the school to greet the parents of her class, and answer any questions they had. The outcome was mostly positive, and as Anne remarked caustically to Susan, it saved her the trouble of explaining herself twenty-three times. Anne answered questions about the meal breaks, her opinion on how young a child could reasonably be before they were sent to school, and her background in teaching. Most were quite impressed, and by the weekend Anne was being invited everywhere for dinner, leaving Susan to state that it made her an easy person to cook for.

On Saturday night it was Penny Winston flying around in a ruffled apron, preparing the meal that had her beloved niece wild with excitement. Her brother had been pushed from his own kitchen by the commotion and complained that Miss Shirley had better be worth all of the fuss- and was subsequently met with a round of scolding. Andrew had asked her vaguely if she could ' _do a thing_ ' for Lizzie's new teacher, causing Penny some anxiety, wanting to have the evening go just right.

Promptly on time, the doorbell rang, and Penny pulled the apron from her pretty lavender dress to go and greet her guest, with Andrew and Lizzie close behind.

Half an hour later, Anne was settled in the elegant room talking to Lizzie's father, stopping every now and then to listen to the little girl. Andrew Winston found himself pleasantly surprised at Miss Shirley's company. She was witty and interesting, and there was something oddly familiar in the way she spoke. It was only when he learned of her hometown that he made a sudden connection in his mind- however, there was no time to comment any further, as the doorbell had rung again. He gave an amused smile, seeing Penny's hand move to her hair, and as she flew from the room, he turned to the lady he guessed to be a little younger than himself.

"We're expecting a friend of ours for dinner as well, Miss Shirley. That way you can meet us all at once."

* * *

Minutes before the door to the brightly lit house opened, Gilbert stood on the doorstep with a posy in one hand, breathing deeply. There was no reason to be nervous. Andrew had invited him to come that morning, adding with unconcern that the town's new teacher would be in attendance as well. Gilbert paid that little heed- he supposed he would meet her sometime, especially if she became unwell. He surmised that she was likely some lady who had fallen on hard times and needed a soft place to land. He instantly dismissed her from his mind. No, the thing to do was to speak to Penny at once, to ask her to dinner next Friday night. As he wrestled with a nagging feeling that somehow it was all about to go horribly wrong, Gilbert heard footsteps and he was dazzled by the light from the entryway. Penny welcomed him inside, accepting the flowers he offered with pleasure.

"Gilbert, this is so thoughtful! Come into the kitchen, I'll find a vase for them now." She led him down the narrow hall, knowing that her guest would be well occupied for a time. "I'm so glad you could come, Andrew wanted some male company, I believe. He was worried that a ladies _tete-a-tete_ might prove uninteresting."

Gilbert immediately began to relax, seeing her so comfortable as she filled the vase with water for the flowers. "Well, the least I can do is save him from that."

Penny chuckled. "There, now. Come, Gilbert, we owe it to Miss Shirley to not keep her waiting."

Gilbert had taken two steps before the name registered, and a jolt that had nothing to do with Penny's hand on his arm shot through him. His face paled, however at Penny's inquiring look, he assembled his features into something approaching a smile. "I'm- I'm sorry, what was the name?"

"Shirley, I believe. She's lovely Gilbert. A little older, and so wonderful with Lizzie."

The word 'older' made him breathe again, and he found himself babbling. " _Older_ , yes. And- and crippled, too, apparently-"

There was a dull pounding in his head, and he fought to keep his face steady. As they walked down a hall that seemed ridiculously long, he could only hear the sound of his own breathing in his ears. A few more steps and the insanity would pass. He would see that it wasn't her- this was haunting with a vengeance. There _was_ no Miss Shirley anymore, only a ghostlike Mrs Gardiner. And she wasn't crippled, she _wasn't_ -

He felt Penny's tug on his arm and stepped into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and as the sound inside his head reached a feverish pitch, he felt every ounce of colour draining from his face. His eyes were on the lady in black who had risen from the sofa, a walking stick in her hand. Gilbert Blythe felt everything he thought he knew come crashing down around him, as for the first time in six years he looked into the pale face of Anne Shirley.

* * *

Whether the moment lasted an eternity or mere seconds, Anne caught the bewildered expression on Penny and Andrew's faces. Seeing that Gilbert was unable to respond, she gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I believe Doctor Blythe is- rightfully- a little surprised. We were classmates, at school and at Redmond together." Her voice shook slightly, and she unconsciously moved the walking stick behind her.

Penny looked at Gilbert in surprise, wondering why he hadn't spoken. "Well, how lovely that the two of you could catch up again."

After a prolonged silence, Gilbert gave a slight nod. "Yes. It's good to see you."

Anne's smile faltered at the way he stood so stiffly, and she was relieved when Andrew suggested that they move into the dining room for dinner.

The success of the meal was largely due to Penny and Andrew, who kept the conversation going. Penny looked at Anne in askance, wondering why her presence should cause Gilbert to be so quiet. She talked to her pleasantly, wanting to smooth out any awkwardness. Anne was well read and intelligent, and Penny saw with surprise that her brother was extending himself to talk more than he usually would. Anne, she noticed, was eating very little, stopping now and then to answer Lizzie's bubbling questions. No, it was all quite puzzling.

When Penny spoke to Gilbert he found that he could look at least look at her calm face, that it stopped him from looking at _her_. And he wouldn't. He could feel the headache forming, wondering how early he could excuse himself. Behind the face that was outwardly stoic, rage was beginning to pulse through his veins, a myriad of questions that had no discernible answer. He listened to the voice that inexplicably sounded so different now, as if something had gone from it. No, this was madness- he was seeing only what he expected to see, it wasn't _real_ -

Just before Penny took a protesting little girl to bed, Anne felt warm little arms come around her waist and bent to say goodnight to Lizzie with a smile. She thanked Penny for her kindness, saying that she really must be getting home.

"Miss Shirley, Andrew can take you home," Penny protested, looking to him for assistance.

Anne gave him a smile intended to reassure, telling him that her home was only a short walk away. "And you know every good teacher needs her exercise," she added lightly. "Thank you very much, Mr Winston."

Andrew was no fool, and had watched his friend curiously all night. He allowed her to go, hoping that Gilbert would be able to shed some light on this interesting development. He was about to walk her to the door, when he was called by Penny to say goodnight to his daughter.

Anne wouldn't meet Gilbert's eyes, and took her coat from the chair it had been placed on. He was standing in the doorway, and she was silent, willing him to move to allow her past. She had barely heard his voice all evening, and it was a shock to hear him speak now.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

Anne drew in a deep breath, her head beginning to hurt. "I needed to find work," she said softly. "And the Glen school was hiring."

"And why here _tonight_?"

Anne recoiled from the barely-veiled anger in his tone, and carefully placed her free hand on the chair beside her, hoping to still her trembling hands. "You know it's customary for the community to invite the teacher for a meal. I didn't realise that you would be here either."

"And if you had?"

Anne looked at him, her voice gentle. "Then I would have come anyway. There is no reason for me to avoid an old friend." His expression told her how far from the mark she was, and her heart shrank.

Gilbert gave a bitter laugh. "Friends? Is _that_ what we are?" Anne was silent, and he grew angrier at the way she lowered her head. He watched her turn towards the door, and in his humiliation fired one more shot, heedless of the damage it could do. "Just what is it you expect from me?" he asked mercilessly.

The look of agony that crossed her pale face made him start when she turned back to him, holding her coat against her chest. Her chin lifted, but her grey eyes were dull, and in a moment that hurt beyond anything he had ever experienced, Gilbert saw with stark realisation that the sparkling, fiery girl he had once loved was gone.

"I don't expect anything from you, Doctor Blythe."

And before an ashen-faced Gilbert could move, she walked past him and out of the front door.

* * *

Anne numbly stumbled up the pathway to her house, her fists desperately clenched against the rising tide of grief. She unlocked the door with hands that felt frozen, and as the warmth of the little house hit her like a wave she sank onto the wooden floor, her cane clattering to the ground. Unable to rise, and unable to fight the tears any longer, her hands came up to cover her face in anguish. The tight control she had over her emotions broke, and a cry that seemed to come from her very heart sounded through the cottage.

A very frightened Susan came running down the stairs to see her mistress sitting on the floor, weeping as if her heart had been broken. She looked so fragile, so childlike, and it was the maternal heart in Susan that took over now. She asked no questions, gingerly sitting beside her on the worn mat. She pulled a broken Anne tenderly into her arms, rocking her to and fro, hushing her gently.

" _There_ , now, love. It will pass, dearie, it will pass."

* * *

Back at the Winston house, Penny came into the entryway carrying a hat. Gilbert was still staring at the door where she had been, and turned to look at Penny, his features blank.

"Gilbert? What's the matter? Does Miss Shirley know that she left her hat here?"

Her voice held such concern, and he could only look at her dumbly.

"She- she left."

"It's getting so cold out there- was she safe to walk alone?"

Gilbert's skin turned to gooseflesh, realising just what he had done. She had _tried_ , she had at least been civil to him-

As the memory of her white face and pain filled eyes came back to him, the wave of nausea hit him suddenly, almost making him dizzy. She was _crippled_ \- what hell had she experienced? Whom had she lost? This wasn't the girl who had snubbed him so mercilessly at convocation, the one who had faced him in scorn during their school days. She was broken- and he had tortured her cruelly. What kind of man was he? What kind of doctor looked past an obvious injury to inflict more pain?

Sickly, he pulled his coat from the peg and walked outside, chased by a concerned Penny. "Gilbert, you forgot your scarf." She placed it in his hands as he reached his horse and buggy, and placed a hand on his arm. "Gilbert, are you sure you are quite well?"

The worry in her voice scorched him with shame, and he turned to give her a tortured smile. "I- I need an early night, that's all."

Penny stepped toward the horse, stroking its nose in a familiar manner. She smiled then, wanting to comfort him. "What was it that you called him?"

Gilbert cleared his throat, bleakly wishing for the night to swallow him whole. "Hippocrates."

"Ah, the father of modern medicine. And the one you gave your oath to, I believe," she said thoughtfully. "How does it go?"

She turned innocent blue eyes to face him, and his heart broke. The words seemed to make a mockery of all he had worked for, and his voice was dull as he spoke.

"First, do no harm."

* * *

 **(Please just trust me, okay?)**

 **love, Cate.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The train from Four Winds Harbour to Carmody rattled and clicked over the branch line, winding through logging camps and farming communities. Only hours after Gilbert had given up the attempt to sleep, he sat in the carriage on the train, his stare unseeing in the dull light of early morning. With no patients in need of urgent care, and instructions to his housekeeper to call Lowbridge in the event of an emergency, he did the only thing he could think of to do- to go home and find out what had happened from those who would know.

It was a hollow-eyed Gilbert who then knocked on his parents' door at eleven o' clock. Sonia Blythe's surprise was absolute, and with a cry she pulled him into a smothering hold in near-hysterics, her hat still on her head after coming in from church.

"Gilbert, darling, why didn't you tell us you were coming? We would have come to pick you up from the station! You must have been up so early this morning, dear. Were you quite warm enough? Did you bring another bag? Oh, and I haven't even got your room ready, I haven't dusted it in at least a week! John, do you think there is enough time to roast a chicken for tonight? And new potatoes, I know how you love those. Oh, it's been months since you were last here, in February, I believe- and I think we had chicken that night, as well. And a bread pudding with the raisins in it just the way you like it, dear."

"Ma-"

"Yes, dear- oh, and I should tell your Aunt Josephine that you're home-"

" _Mother_ -"

John chuckled. "Let the boy get a word in, won't you?"

Gilbert's smile was forced. "Dad, Ma, I'm sorry, but I'm only here for the night, I have to get back in the morning."

Sonia Blythe's face fell for a moment, and then she sighed, giving her son a loving look. "Then we will just enjoy your company tonight." She pulled Gilbert into her arms once more and smiled as his arms came around her in a longer than usual hug. When he pulled away, at last, she studied him. "Dear, why are you here then?" she asked. At Gilbert's hunted look, John Blythe ushered his family into the warm sitting room, and he and his wife sat on the sofa to wait. With concern in their eyes, they watched Gilbert pace around the small room in silence, before throwing himself into the armchair by the window.

He drew in a deep breath, and with a sick feeling in his stomach finally forced the words he had been dwelling on from his throat.

"I- I need to ask you something," he said hoarsely. He ignored the worry in their eyes, focusing instead on the striped mat underneath his feet. "What- happened- to Anne?"

When he looked up, he saw his mother's face whiten. "Gilbert, you never wanted-"

"I know. But I need to know now." He folded his arms, a muscle in his cheek jumping. Her name had not knowingly crossed his lips in six years- and he saw with shame the look on his parent's faces.

"Why, son?"

Gilbert caught his father's sharp look and flinched. " _Why_?"

"Yes, _why_ ," John said deliberately. "You made it clear a long time ago that you didn't want it discussed, to our cost, I might add. We honoured that, however little we liked your avoidance of the subject."

" _Dad_ -"

"So I'll ask you again, _why_?"

At no point did John raise his voice, but Gilbert still felt like the thirteen-year-old who was asked why someone had broken a slate over his head. He pushed aside the memory and answered in a resigned voice.

"Because she lives in the Glen now."

Sonia's look was panicked. "Oh, Gilbert! No wonder you are so upset. Why on earth did she go there?" she began, and was startled to see the look of self-disgust cross his face.

"Mama, her being there isn't about _me_. But I need to know what happened. Did something happen to Marilla? Why is she limping? Was she in some kind of accident?"

His mother looked at John pleadingly, not knowing what to say.

"Gil, Marilla died in May," John said tiredly. "It was sudden- her heart, I believe. Rachel moved away through the summer, and Green Gables was closed up."

Gilbert's hand was shaking as he ran his hand through his brown hair. "And what of the accident?"

He watched as his mother pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "No one really knows."

Gilbert looked back at her, aghast. "Mama, in _this_ town? How can no one know?"

At this, a flash came into her eyes. "Because all anyone was told was that it had happened. When she came home for the funeral, she never spoke of it, and no one dared ask- leaving everyone to guess. Even Rachel was silent on the matter." She was quiet for a moment and sighed. "Diana is the only one who would know."

Gilbert stood up from his chair with a stubborn glint in his eye but was forestalled by his father. "Gil, I know you want answers, but charging over there at dinnertime isn't the way to do it. We've missed you, son. We know you have to work, and we know that you can't just up and leave your patients, but you're here with us now. _Stay_. Have dinner and then go over there when you're done."

Gilbert hesitated, and then nodded. "Of course. And I've missed you both too."

His mother stood then, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It is wonderful to see you, darling. I'd best go and get dinner on."

Gilbert sat with his father for some moments in silence.

"So you've seen her then?" John asked. He watched the pained look in Gilbert's eyes as he nodded, and gave a deep sigh. "It was a whole lot of hurt to come in one year. No one expected Marilla to go." He stood up slowly, then. "Well, I guess we'd better go help your mother."

Gilbert stood up too, pausing to rub his face with his hands.

"How was she?" John asked quietly.

A spasm seemed to hit his son's cheek as he turned from the room. "It's like she's not even the same person."

John sighed, placing a weathered hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. But she won't be."

* * *

When Diana opened her door to see Gilbert Blythe that afternoon, she was silent for long moments, prompting Fred to come and see who had arrived. He was as taken aback as his wife, however, he invited Gilbert to come inside. Gilbert was speechless the moment he came inside, seeing his friend's sturdy six-year-old son, and watching Fred instruct him to take Anne Cordelia outside to play while Jack slept. Gilbert watched them go with an almost physical ache in his chest.

"They're beautiful," he said to Diana quietly.

Fred looked at his wife's tense face and turned to Gilbert. "So, what brings you to town, Gil? What's it been, a few years?"

Gilbert cleared his throat uncomfortably. "A few months. I usually can't stay long when I come." He looked across at Diana, whose arms were crossed tightly.

"Di, I know you are surprised to see me after all this time," he said slowly. "But I came because I needed to ask you something."

Her voice was cool. "You live in Glen St Mary, now, don't you."

Gilbert swallowed. "I assumed that everyone knew that."

Diana shrugged. "As you can see, we didn't. You've been gone for a long time."

A frustrated Gilbert drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I know that I have."

"You want to know about Anne," Diana said bluntly.

Her forthrightness brought a sigh of relief from him. "Yes, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I _do_ mind." At the fury in her voice, Gilbert's head flew up. "There is only _one_ person you should be asking that." Fred laid a calming hand on her arm and turned to Gilbert.

"So you know she's there too. Have you spoken to her yet?" he asked.

Diana watched the look of misery that crossed Gilbert's face, and tensed, her panic evident. "Gilbert, what happened?"

At this, his frustration broke. "Well, what do you _think_ happened, Diana? I was completely blindsided! I haven't seen or heard from her in six years. She should have been far away from here, been married, looked after, _whole_ \- and now she's making a pittance teaching school in Glen St Mary of all places! _Why_ is she there? What happened to her leg, and why doesn't anyone seem to know about it?"

A tear fell down Diana's cheek, and she folded her arms tightly. "Please, Gilbert, _please_ tell me you didn't hurt her-"

Gilbert's shame was complete, and he dropped his head into his hands. After a moment, he spoke dully. "Di, I had no warning last night. She was there in front of me before I could even think. I know that I said something stupid, I don't even remember what- but I _can't_ make it right it until I know what I'm walking into. And I can't just ask her- she would probably refuse to even see me now."

Diana's heart softened a little at the sight of his distress. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You aren't the only one who has come asking for information- and it's not mine to give." Her voice shook slightly, and she wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't do much to help her from here- but I _will_ respect her privacy. If she won't talk to you, then that's her answer and you need to accept that."

Gilbert eventually nodded, and Diana sighed. "Gil, she's not who she was all those years ago. I've had to accept that. The accident changed her- and Marilla's death was so wholly unexpected. She won't even discuss it with me." She was quiet then, before her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Maybe one day she will talk to someone- maybe even you."

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Di, there's too much water under the bridge now. She's not the only one who changed. Whatever friendship we had is gone- I think the best we can do is just let each other be."

Diana's mouth trembled. "Gilbert, _please_ don't make it worse for her. If that means letting this go without sorting it out, then do that. Don't make things any harder for her."

Gilbert stood up, then, unable to meet her eyes. "I won't." He looked at his childhood friends and swallowed. "It's been good to see you."

Fred placed his arm around Diana, and nodded. "You too, Gil. Maybe next time you can stay longer."

Gilbert gave him a half smile. "Perhaps. One day."

A few minutes later, Fred watched Gilbert walk down the lane alone and sighed, pulling his sobbing wife into his arms. He'd seen the pain she was going through on behalf of her beloved friend, he'd hoped it would ease a little when Anne was settled comfortably. For the sake of his wife's tender heart, he sent up a prayer that the situation would not get any worse.

* * *

The rain had been falling for an hour in the Glen on Monday night, when Anne found herself warmly tucked up on the lounge in the sitting room. Susan had laid her schoolwork beside her, clucking anxiously- an indulgent Anne had rolled her eyes when Susan scolded her for working in the chilly office, and given in to the blanket being placed around her with good grace. For the scare she had given her only two nights ago, Anne felt it best to submit- especially when Susan had been so good about her refusal to discuss what had happened.

Susan had tenderly tucked a still crying Anne into bed on Saturday evening, and sat knitting beside her bed for some time until she had fallen asleep. When Anne had awoken on Sunday morning, it was to a housekeeper in her Sunday best with a tray of food and stern instructions not leave her bed that morning.

For Anne, the morning had brought a unexpected sense of calm along with it- then she gave a weak chuckle. Either that or bone-shattering exhaustion had set in. Of necessity she had pushed all thoughts of Gilbert aside, moving around the house slowly until she had loosened up a little. Before Susan returned from church Anne was sitting on the back step in her robe with a cup of tea, the sunshine bringing much-needed warmth to her body. Wistfully she looked toward the tangle of roses, red, pink and white. Their branches were hopelessly tangled with thorns, long enough to dissuade even the keenest gardener from straightening out the mess. She would tackle it in the spring, perhaps.

Now, Anne stared out of the window at the rain falling, her work disregarded. In spite of the heart that still felt fragile, she had gone to school as normal, re-learning that it was possible to keep going. It was possible to smile again, to simply accept. Lizzie Winston had run up to throw her arms around Anne, chattering about the evening Anne had spent with her family. She had lamented not being allowed to show Anne her room, and Anne could smile, and tell her that she would see it next time.

Susan came into the room to check on her then, a clean dishcloth in her hand. "Now, Anne dearie, don't you think it time for you to be going to bed?"

Anne chuckled. "Susan, I'm fine." She caught the stern look her housekeeper gave her, and surrendered. "I will head there by nine at the latest, I could use some extra sleep."

"That is an _understatement_. I'll bring you tea shortly."

Anne stretched out on the sofa in the quiet of the room. The sound of the steady rain was soothing, and slowly, Anne began to relax. She thought of him then as she closed her eyes, remembering the look on his face, how silent and angry he had been. From his reaction Anne knew that he hadn't had any warning- she at least had a week to prepare herself to see him. Anne listlessly watched the gentle firelight. She had spoken truly when it came to her expectations of him. So long had it been, that very little was recoverable of who they once were.

The fresh grief for the friendship that had gone, for the boy she had known almost as well as she had known herself, had surprised her. Six years ago she had found herself in a new town, with new faces, new challenges- the grief back then had subsided over time, buried under routine and hard work. Or had she just learned to hide that from herself too?

Some time later, an exhausted Anne awoke from a short nap to the sound of distant voices in the kitchen. She blinked confusedly, and pushed herself up from the cushion, thinking that Susan would indeed scold her for not going right to bed- until she heard the timbre of the other voice alongside Susan's. A cold feeling went through her, and she sat up. She cautiously pulled herself to her feet, holding onto the sofa as she limped to the doorway, smoothing her hair back into the loose bun she wore. Through the open door, she heard Susan's voice.

"Miss Shirley was resting a short time ago, Doctor. May I help you with anything?"

There was hesitation in his voice, and Anne's eyes closed, praying for strength. "Miss Baker, I don't wish to disturb her. Would you ask Miss Shirley if she would be willing to contact me at some time?"

Susan appeared to be somewhat perplexed by his question. "Certainly, Doctor."

Anne cleared her throat, and two faces turned to where she stood in the doorway. Susan looked at her with concern, however Anne's glance at Gilbert was steady.

"Doctor Blythe, won't you come in."

Gilbert held his hat in his hands and walked ahead of her into the small room, as Anne asked Susan to bring in some tea. Gilbert remained standing until she sat down, unconsciously studying her gait and balance. That she was wary was certain, and she was paler than she had been two nights ago- but the calm on her face made him pause somewhat foolishly. How was he meant to begin? His eyes flicked to a photograph of Marilla and Matthew on the mantelpiece, and he took a deep breath.

"I want to apologise for my abominable behaviour the other night," he said, at last. When she had been silent for a time, he glanced at her eyes. There was an unknown expression in them, and she had her hands folded in her lap.

"It's alright, Gilbert."

Every other thought flew out of his head in his astonishment, and he found himself searching her face for signs of the girl he used to know. The red hair, the freckles were the same- and yet it defied description how changed she was. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and continued.

"It was ungentlemanly, and appalling of me to speak to you like that, especially when you were a guest in someone else's home."

Again, Anne's voice was quiet. "Gilbert, you don't have to do this."

At each word from her, Gilbert's frustration increased. "Anne, would you just let me admit that I was wrong?"

He was surprised to see a wry smile tug at her face. "As much as I would enjoy that under normal circumstances, I don't need you to do it," she replied, and looked at him honestly. "You- had no warning."

Gilbert's breath was taken away, and it was at this juncture that Susan brought the tray of tea things in, proceeding to pour a cup for each of them.

"Milk with one sugar, Doctor Blythe?" Anne asked, and at the return of his title he only looked at her in consternation- and then realised it was because Susan was in the room. He only nodded, and when Susan left the room she closed the door behind her. He tensed at this, however Anne only sat back on the chair, her cup untouched. It was then that he noticed her hands shaking slightly, and he saw that she was as uncomfortable as he was. She met his eyes then.

"You didn't know I was here."

Gilbert shook his head. "I- everyone talked about the new school teacher- I never heard a name."

Anne nodded. "My appointment happened fairly late in the summer. It's likely only the board knew."

Now realising how tired he was, Gilbert sat back in his chair. "It doesn't matter if you don't need it, I needed to say it. I should never have responded that way to you, no matter what state you and I were in."

Anne swallowed back the pain at his comment and answered him. "I understand more than you think." He only looked at her in consternation, and she gave a sigh. "You aren't a cruel person, Gilbert. You were just caught off guard."

To Gilbert, this was a fresh source of pain. "Did _you_ know?"

There was a moment of silence, and then- "Yes. Diana knew there was a possibility that you could be here, although she wasn't sure. I found out you were from Mrs Elliot. As soon as she knew I was from Avonlea, she brought you up immediately."

Gilbert shook his head at the calm way she spoke. "And you were fine with that?"

Anne hesitated. "I thought after six years that it wouldn't matter to you that I was here."

"And it didn't matter to you that _I_ was?"

He watched her smooth the fabric of her dress over her knees, her eyes on the black skirt. "Gilbert, I needed work. I applied to all the schools that were available, and the Glen was the only one who replied."

Gilbert cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Anne, I- I don't know how else to do this. You might say that it's none of my business, but I wondered about your accident."

Anne's cheeks seemed to grow paler, and he was about to retract his question, when she spoke, her eyes distant. "I was at school. I was carrying a box down from the archives to my office and slipped. Apparently, I fell down an entire flight of stairs."

Gilbert choked, his look horrified. "Apparently?"

Anne's face was shuttered. "I was knocked out by the fall, and didn't wake for several hours. The break was a compound fracture that didn't heal properly."

Gilbert had paled himself now, remembering how fine her bone structure had been. "You must have been in hospital for-"

"For several months, yes."

He tried to gather his thoughts somehow. "When did the accident happen?"

"November the eighteenth, last year. I was discharged to a rehabilitation clinic in Charlottetown in February, and spent another two and a half months there before I went home to Summerside. I only lasted two weeks before I knew I couldn't keep up with the multiple classrooms I was managing, and resigned."

Gilbert shivered at how matter of fact she sounded. "And you saw a doctor regularly?"

To his surprise, this made her smile faintly. "I saw every doctor, I believe."

"And they can do nothing more for you?"

Anne shrugged. "I can walk, albeit with a cane. I choose to see that as a success."

Gilbert hesitated. "And was- was anyone with you in that time?"

With dismay, he watched the signs of her drawing back, pulling her arms closer to herself. He'd often seen it in the older days if he got too close- but this was another thing entirely.

"She- Marilla came to me as soon as it happened, however, she couldn't stay. She visited every few weeks while she could."

"And did you never think of returning to Avonlea for good?" At the hurt look on her face, he backed off immediately. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."

Anne shook her head, her chin rising. "I had savings behind me after five years at Summerside, and the medical bills were able to be settled though that. There are ongoing matters though, and I wasn't going to put that on Marilla. I need to work."

At this Gilbert's face fell. She'd told him that the other night, and he'd behaved so _cruelly_ -

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice dull. "I'm so very sorry. I didn't know. I thought you were married, I thought you were in Kingsport."

Anne had been calm and collected until this point, at this, she looked up in shock. "Why- why would you think that?"

Gilbert was stiff, his eyes guarded. "Because Josie Pye told me that you were the year after we graduated."

Anne's breathing was uneven, and she steadied herself against the chair. "I was never even engaged."

"But, Gardner-"

Anne herself at this point was fighting back tears that she desperately tried to hide. "I didn't accept him."

Gilbert swallowed hard. "So- Josie was- mistaken."

At this Anne closed her eyes, with the bitter memory of what Josie had informed her at Jane's wedding. She gave him a measured glance then.

"Yes. She was ' _mistaken'_." Anne drew in a deep breath. "No one ever seemed to know where you went after Medical school."

At this, Gilbert bristled slightly. "And no one thought to ask my parents?"

Anne's voice was gentle. "I didn't come home that often in the holidays. The school needed me to be there more, in the early years."

Gilbert gave a short nod. "I see. Neither did I."

Anne sighed, and chose to speak to him honestly. "I meant what I said, Gilbert. I don't have any expectations of you. It's been a long time since we talked. This is where your practice and your home is, and I am just here to teach school. You don't owe me anything."

Gilbert stood then, unable to handle the calm way she spoke. "How can you be so indifferent to all of this?" he asked, his voice agitated.

"I'm _not_ indifferent-"

"And how could you just let me speak to you that way? That isn't the Anne Shirley I knew-"

Anne's voice grew heated, now. "With all due respect, Gilbert, after all this time, how would you know?"

" _Then fight back!_ "

Anne rose to her feet, her eyes green. " _No_ ," she stated furiously. "I won't. It is a _fight_ to walk. It is a _fight_ to make a new life, and it's a _fight_ to get up in the morning. It's a fight to convince people that I still have the ability to be useful. I don't have the energy to fight battles that don't matter anymore. Whoever I am now is completely irrelevant to you. Gilbert, I am _happy_ for you. I am glad that you have everything you dreamed of. But if you are expecting me to pick up where we left off at Convocation and continue this cold war between us, then I _won't_."

As the two of them faced each other across the little room, Gilbert let out a long breath. "Well, that sounded like you again," he said after a minute.

"You see? I'm not dead yet." Her voice was ironic, and he looked up in shock to meet her grey eyes, a slight smile on her face.

The memory of the fanciful girl she had been seemed to hover in the room like a ghost, and Gilbert eventually swallowed and nodded. "I should be going, I haven't had much sleep lately- I'll leave you be."

And Anne, who was not nearly as stoic as she had pretended to be faltered at his final words. "Yes. I'd better go to sleep too. Susan is a mite over-protective right now."

Gilbert followed Anne from the room, watching the way she relied on her cane. "That stick is too short for you," he said gently. Anne turned to him, startled. "You might want to find one with an extra inch or two."

Anne looked down at it in shock. "Oh. It was Marilla's."

"You were taller than Marilla." He took up his coat from the chair Susan had placed it on and turned to Anne, who flinched at the look on his face. He spoke then, his voice tight. "I deeply regret my behaviour to you the other night. I will never speak to you so disrespectfully again." He paused and rubbed his brow tiredly. "I'm glad you found somewhere safe to land. I'm so sorry that you got hurt. And I'm so very, very sorry about Marilla."

Gilbert saw Susan appear in the doorway of the kitchen, and nodded to her. He turned towards Anne, unable to meet her eyes this time. "Miss Shirley."

"Good night, Doctor Blythe."

He turned, and was gone, leaving Anne with tears streaming down her face. Susan came to stand beside her, watching her protectively. "Anne? Are you alright?"

She drew in a shaking breath. "Yes. I'll be heading to bed now, Susan. Thank you for all of your help."

Susan turned to the doorway to where Doctor Blythe had been, her look bewildered. Just who had he been to her?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

For the next few weeks, Gilbert threw himself into work with a feverish zeal. Catching up on unfinished paperwork, driving across the countryside at all hours to visit patients and researching late into the night. He had always been a conscientious worker, however he refused to admit yet that his frenetic pace had anything to do with the turmoil in his personal life. As the weather grew colder the phone seemed to ring constantly, and he found little time to call at the Winston's house- although the relief that this occasioned should perhaps have told him something.

The day after his thirty-first birthday, he sat in his office downtown writing up case notes and checking his inventory. The apothecary had told him he would be making one last order this month, and Gilbert was on a ladder out the back when he heard the bell ring.

"I'll be right with you," he called, and then nearly fell off the platform at the sight of Andrew Winston standing almost directly underneath him. He climbed down from the ladder, breathing hard. "Did you _have_ to do that?"

"Yes. Why haven't we seen you?"

Gilbert took a look at his friend's scowl and sighed. "I'm sorry. I've been busy."

"I can see that. We haven't seen you in weeks."

"You know what the change of season is like, everyone's getting sick-"

"Do I need to get sick to get you to come over for dinner?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Don't bother. I'll make time. This weekend?"

Andrew grinned. "Saturday it is. But come on, it's lunchtime right now."

The two men walked down the street, and Gilbert drew in a breath at the scenery he'd barely noticed. The October colours were everywhere- he felt the chill in the air and found himself inexplicably wondering how warm the schoolhouse was. Quickly he shook himself and tried to pay attention to Andrew's conversation.

At the tearoom, Andrew sat watching the distraction on Gilbert's face.

"So, what's going on, Gil?"

Gilbert looked up, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Andrew smiled at Mrs Sampson as she refilled the coffee cups. When she walked away, he sat back. "You haven't been yourself, lately. And I couldn't help but notice that the last time we saw you was when we met Miss Shirley, who _also_ happens to be from your hometown."

Gilbert placed his mug down on the table to control the shaking in his hands. "I don't see what that has to do with anything-"

Andrew sighed, folding his arms. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm adding two and two, and getting six. And I think I'm right."

Gilbert snorted. "That's how lawyers add up?"

When he only looked at him, Gilbert's smile fell. "Fine. I knew her. A long time ago."

Andrew looked at him, his eyebrows raised. "And?"

"And nothing. I knew her."

Andrew looked surprised. "I expected at least to hear a story of unrequited love, with the way you reacted."

Gilbert exhaled. "You've been reading too many novels. But you couldn't have told me her name when you invited me to come?"

"What would that have done?"

 _It could have stopped me from behaving like a complete idiot-_

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "At least I wouldn't have looked so stunned. I might have been able to talk a bit more with some warning."

"You've never been a great talker, old fellow. That wasn't so strange."

This made Gilbert pause rather foolishly. Was that really how Andrew saw him?

"Then what makes you think anything is wrong?"

Andrew sighed. He'd hoped that this would be easier. "Talk to me, Gil. Did you and she have some kind of history?"

Gilbert pushed his plate away, his face pale. "Alright then, yes."

"And are you going to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Fine, we'll do it your way," Andrew said impatiently. "I'll ask, you can choose to answer or not. Were the two of you involved?"

"No."

"Were you in love with her?" When all that met him was stony silence, Andrew sighed and moved on. "So it ended badly."

"There was nothing to _end_ ," Gilbert said angrily, unable to help himself. "She was my _best friend._ I loved her, but she didn't feel that way about me. So when I proposed, she turned me down. We barely spoke for the last two years of college, and as far as I knew, she was with someone else and was going to marry him. I went back home after college for the summer and nearly died of typhoid, and I didn't see her even _once_. And then, without warning, after six years of assuming she _married_ him and was living in some castle in Spain, she suddenly turns up in your sitting room, barely able to walk, in _mourning_ and teaching at a little school in the middle of nowhere. So if it looks like I didn't handle things very well that night, guess what, I _didn't,_ " he said savagely.

Andrew's wide mouth hung open in surprise. Suddenly, he gave a dry chuckle. "Right. So having the two of you over together was _bad_ then."

Gilbert grunted. "We were going to meet sometime. Maybe it was for the best."

His friend ruffled his hair and sighed. "Still, I'm sorry, Gil." He gave him a sharp look then. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

Gilbert's answer was quick and negative. "We're different people now. She's not the girl I remember- and we've spent eight years apart. If she can live safely here then I'm happy for her. But anything I felt- any friendship we had -just _isn't_ , anymore."

"Do real friends ever _stop_ being friends?" Andrew asked absently.

Gilbert shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone has people move out of their life, I suppose."

Andrew put his hands in his pockets, studying the place mat before him with apparent interest. "You know, Gil, I had thought you were trying to get up the nerve to court my sister," he said, slowly. "But it's taken so long for you to come to the point, that I don't really think you've decided."

Gilbert paled. "Andrew, Penny is a wonderful friend- and I do care about her-"

Andrew shook his head. "And you know that we care for you too. But you know that it's got to be more than that if you wanted a life with her."

"I do."

Andrew nodded, his face thoughtful. "Look, I've probably got no business asking this, but you're content to do nothing until you're sure? I don't want her getting hurt."

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief. "No, Neither do I. I'm sorry, it must look like I'm uncaring or indecisive-"

"No, it just looks like you're not there yet." Andrew leant forward to talk to his friend quietly. "Gil, I met Madeline at college- and I knew that I loved her right away. When you've known _that_ kind of love, you know that no other will satisfy. You don't settle for less." He gave Gilbert a faint grin. "Look, I'd love it if you joined my obnoxious family. They're really quite fun. But you need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's right. And Penny's too special to have it be less than that."

"I know." Gilbert eyed Andrew nervously, and the man smiled, shaking his head. "I've been keeping an eye on things. She's fine. You haven't broken any hearts yet."

Gilbert gave a sardonic chuckle. "I never have, I suppose."

Andrew stood up, and when Gilbert did the same he clapped him on the back.

"Look, old man, come for dinner tonight. Penny and Lizzie and I have been bored for the last month, you can come and entertain us by not talking much."

As they walked from the building, Gilbert gave him a curious look. "I do talk, you know."

"Good. Then practice doing it tonight."

* * *

Later that day, Gilbert went home to an empty house and fell onto his bed with relief. He'd had two young brothers with a bad attack of croup the night before, and right now he desperately needed sleep. As he lay back, his long legs crossed and staring at the roof of the canopied bed, he sighed. Andrew's words about Penny were a bigger relief than he was willing to admit- he'd not been ready. Otherwise, he would have done it months ago. And there was one consolation in telling Andrew the story- maybe it would avoid some awkward dinners in the future. Gilbert pulled the curtains around the bed, and yet again found his eyes unable to close. He held his hand up before him idly, letting it fall across his forehead, unable to still his mind.

He'd done a good job of not thinking about Anne. He'd worked, hadn't so much as seen her- except for the glimpse of red hair at church. He'd barely noticed her amongst the throng afterwards- although he had smiled to see the children crowd around her as soon as the service ended, shadowed by the faithful Susan and talking to the other members of the congregation. Surely she was doing well- he didn't have to concern himself. Still, it was times like this in the darkness when he wondered if she was well, if anything had made her smile that day. It was with an effort that he turned over on his pillow, determined to get some rest for the evening. He was tired- thinking things he didn't need to. Wondering, no- merely speculating- barely _thinking_ about it, really- what was she doing right now?

* * *

Not a mile away, Anne was tumbled in a heap on the ground and was just beginning to pull herself up again. Susan had flown down from the clothesline as soon as she saw Anne's hat disappear from above the bushes, and when she arrived a flushed, cross looking Anne was slowly getting to her feet.

"Good grief, that's the third time this week," she grumbled.

Susan stood still, her heart hammering. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Anne grimaced. "I think this time I might have. I stepped on a loose pebble and turned my ankle slightly."

The housekeeper had her in the sitting room within minutes and was examining the damage along with Anne.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Anne commented, with a relieved look. "I've had worse."

Susan sighed. "Are you just going to strap it up again?"

Anne nodded, leaning back on the sofa with a sigh. "That will teach me to not daydream when I walk-" she chuckled and then gave a mock frown, imitating a deep voice. "' _Mindfulness_ , young lady, you must have _mindfulness_ when you walk!' Oh, poor Doctor Barnett, I did give him a hard time of it."

Susan shook her head and left the room, to return with a salve she had concocted and another roll of bandages. "I think you give _yourself_ a hard time of it. Anne, this time, don't you think-"

"No, I don't," Anne said as she gave her a firm smile. "Susan dear, I've had to learn to handle this myself. I have seen every doctor on the island, it seems- and this isn't anything to worry about. Tomorrow is Wednesday, I'll just sit down for the day. Bless the children, even the boys are less rowdy if they know I'm moving slowly."

Susan was not happy with this conclusion, however by now, she had learned to not waste her breath. She saw that Anne was resting comfortably before returning outside, and as she pulled the last sheet from the line, she folded it over her arm with a calculating look. She turned to look up the hill, towards the main street that ran through Glen St Mary. She had said that _she_ wouldn't go- she didn't say that _she_ couldn't.

* * *

Two weeks later, Gilbert was turning into Andrew's house again, only to have Lizzie throw herself at him with a glad cry.

"Papa brought home a puppy, Doctor Blythe! He's so little and fluffy and I _love_ him-"

Gilbert grinned, giving her a hug. Over her head, he saw a dishevelled Penny narrow her eyes, as a brown fluffy ball ran towards the dining room again.

"And how do Papa and Aunt Penny like the puppy?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Papa only laughs at him, and Aunt Penny says that at least he didn't get _two_ of them."

Gilbert was duly introduced to the puppy, who was then sent to the covered veranda in disgrace after misbehaving on Andrew's shoes. Gilbert could only laugh, asking what name Lizzy had chosen for her pet.

Penny rolled her eyes towards Gilbert. "I suggested Max, however apparently that name isn't 'imaginative' enough."

Lizzy kicked her black boots over the edge of the chair and giggled. "Aunt Penny, that's papa's hair-cutting man."

"He's a barber, dear."

"And I wanted to call him Florence," she announced, causing Gilbert to choke into his water glass. "But Papa thinks not many boys are called that, only cities or girls. Miss Shirley says you have to keep looking until you find the right name."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew watching him, however, he gave an unaffected smile to Lizzy. "Well, she's right. You'll find one." Gilbert sat down then, with a sigh of bliss at the smell of dinner coming from the kitchen.

Andrew lowered his paper for a moment, his look thoughtful. "How was school today, pumpkin? I forgot to ask you earlier."

"You forgot to ask me yesterday, too, papa."

Gilbert laughed at his friend's look of confusion. "You need reminding, old fellow?"

Andrew gave him a cross look. "Excuse me, you needed reminding to shave, yesterday."

"It was _good_ , papa-"

"You mean it was fine, Lizzie," her father corrected.

"It was good _and_ fine. Miss Shirley said that it was a sitting down day, so we came to her desk to do our spelling and numbers."

Gilbert looked at Andrew in confusion, who leant across the arm of the chair to talk quietly. "The children are usually more active, Penny says. Some days she structures the class differently. I expect it's about her movement."

Gilbert's countenance remained impassive, however, his mind had begun to tick over. "Are sitting down days fun?" he asked Lizzie.

Lizzie beamed. "Oh, yes, sometimes Miss Shirley has us sit on the floor for our reading. The school inspector visited last week, and he had to sit on the floor too."

The superintendent in question had quite a good sense of humour, in fact; and had come away saying that although Miss Shirley's teaching methods were unorthodox, her rapport with the children and the standard of learning had earned her an excellent report.

* * *

Gilbert went home late that night, well-fed and feeling brighter than he had been in quite a while. Andrew was right, good company was what he needed, and after the pressure was taken away to make any decisions regarding his sister, Gilbert had been able to properly enjoy the evening. As he lay in his bed that night though, his wayward thoughts kept turning to the small schoolroom on the edge of the town- and the teacher who so far had done an admirable job of keeping away from the only doctor on the island whom she had not seen. He gave a groan and resolutely pushed all thoughts of her aside, and tried to settle himself for what would hopefully be an unbroken night's sleep. Sleep eventually came, and with it, the tight hold he had on his mind loosened, and in his dreams he drifted.

 _The rain was falling outside his window, the sound soothing, muffled by the drapes. A slumbering, sweetly scented house, a warm person in bed beside him. Little children sleeping safely down the hall. He rolled over at a murmur beside him, tucking her in close to his body, pushing a loose strand of red hair from her face as he nuzzled into her shoulder-_

Gilbert woke with a start then, breathing heavily in the darkness. The cold house was silent, and for long minutes he sat trying to regain his bearings, hearing nothing but the sound of his own breathing. Eventually, he lay down again, pulling a pillow over his face.

Just a trick of the memory.

That was all it was.

* * *

At the end of October, Anne looked out of the window after school one Friday, her forehead resting against the glass. Her pupils had gone home, another week ended. She walked up and down the aisles slowly, picking up the papers to mark that night. She paused to chuckle at the picture on a slate- and underneath bore this legend- ' _my syster et a bug'._ The picture was of the unfortunate bug- or the sister, perhaps. She smiled, thinking of how much Susan enjoyed sitting on the sofa when she was doing her marking- declaring that the stories they printed in the papers were never half so entertaining as the pages Anne brought home.

When she locked the schoolhouse door that afternoon and walked home, Anne stood before the back door and hesitated. She turned wistfully towards the grove beyond the schoolhouse. Tall, evergreen trees stood waving over what the children called 'The Hollow', and underneath brilliant autumn trees were gradually emptying. There was a tightening of her lips then. Winter was only around the corner now- soon the long, grey days of November would come, and she would be trapped inside until spring. She dropped the basket through the door, and with only her walking stick for company, she set off down the path to store up memories for the long winter ahead.

The ground was moist underfoot as she moved through the landscape, and Anne breathed in the smell of damp earth, the mushrooms growing under trees growing bare, and pine trees dotted through the forest. The atmosphere was richly scented and gleaming with colour- and for a moment Anne forgot herself. For a moment she was a girl underneath scarlet skies, still thankful that she lived in a world with Octobers.

It was then that a twig snapped underfoot, and she turned suddenly- there was no time to make a cry before her ankle had given way under her, and she fell to the forest floor.

* * *

At this very moment, Gilbert Blythe was striding through the woods near his house, his mind occupied. Two patients with measles, over five miles apart, with no seeming link between them. Was there a common factor involved? A person who had visited both- heaven forbid, a third patient that he hadn't heard from yet? An epidemic was the last thing the town- or even he- needed. He walked along the pathway and then heard a rustling nearby, and saw someone sitting nearby on the damp ground. Thinking it would be poor manners to walk by, he raised his hat to them, and in an instant saw that it was Anne. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes with a grimace that hopefully didn't show on his face. Of all places to finally run across each other at last, it had to be the woods….

Determined to be courteous, he walked toward her, freezing for a brief moment at the look on her face.

"Anne? What are you doing here?" he said cautiously. As he came closer, his eye caught the contracted brow, the whiteness of her lips and the mud on her skirt. Her chin came up, but at this point, he was more concerned with the position of her foot. Not even waiting for an answer, he gave her a stern look. "You fell, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She gritted her teeth- whether, through pain or his patently obvious questions, he didn't know. "My foot goes numb at times," she said quietly. "I wasn't watching where I was going and I went over on it."

Gilbert sighed, rubbing his forehead. With any other patient he wouldn't waste time in discussion- but then with no other person did he have such a long and complicated history. "Come on, it's getting cold, we need to get you home. Then I can see how much damage you've done."

With some manoeuvring, he had her upright, and with only a slight hesitation he put his arm around her to help her walk. "How far are we from your house?"

Anne's teeth were chattering, and she tried to breathe slowly. "Only a few minutes, I hadn't gone far from the schoolhouse."

"How long were you there? You must be freezing," he said, shifting his arm with a frown.

"No, it's just the shock," she said, before giving a wry chuckle. "I _have_ done this before, Gilbert."

"That's what worries me."

The two of them walked out of the forest and the schoolhouse appeared before them, beyond that lay the little stone cottage. To Gilbert's consternation, she was even paler now, and after a slight prayer for sanity, he picked her up in his arms to walk the rest of the way, ignoring her feeble protests. At the front door, he placed her down, waiting while she fumbled with her keys, taking them off her when she became wobbly.

"Steady on now, we'll have you inside soon," he muttered, and to his relief found the right key immediately. A few minutes later, and he had her on her sofa, and stood up breathing heavily.

"Is Susan home?"

Anne shook her head. "She's at her- her mother's this afternoon."

She tried to struggle upright then and had a hand placed on her shoulder. "Easy, there. We need to check it first."

To his surprise, she waved her hand dismissively. "Gil, it happens all the time, I'll just wrap it again-"

Gilbert nearly fell over at the shock of hearing the nickname she used to call him all those years ago, and then swallowed, trying to focus. "Alright. Anne, how long is it since you actually saw your doctor?"

He nearly smiled at the longsuffering look she gave him. " _My doctor_ , as you call him, is in Summerside. I haven't seen him since March."

"Right. Then unless you can get yourself on a train to go there, Miss Shirley, you're looking at the doctor," he said, amused.

Anne fell back on the sofa with a groan. "Gil, you don't need to do this-"

"You need someone to check it, Anne. And what do you think I trained for, all those years ago?" he said crossly.

Anne had had enough by now, and she pulled herself up, beginning to shiver. "G-Gilbert, I'm- I'm f-f-fine-"

At this Gilbert sighed in exasperation and threw a nearby blanket over her, moving to add wood to the low fire. "Would you settle down, please? It's the shock, remember?"

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, choosing to take a different approach. "Anne, I am aware that this is not particularly comfortable for either one of us, but we need to know how much damage you've done this time," he said, his voice gentle. "You are the most independent woman alive, but even you have to admit that sometimes you are going to need help. And no offence to you or Susan, but I'm the best person to do that."

The war in Anne's mind was gradually settled by the building pain in her foot, and the indisputable logic of Gilbert's words. With fatigue in her eyes, she gave a wry smile and nodded. "Very well, then, doctor. What do you suggest?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Anne's calm acceptance of the matter so suddenly left Gilbert somewhat bewildered. He'd never had any success in convincing her to change her mind in the past- indeed, that was the reason for half of their arguments- and he found himself oddly unsettled by it.

"Well. I didn't think that would be so easy."

Anne gave a wry smile and a wince. "I've learned to do uncomfortable things," she commented, before giving him an injured look. "Just what did you mean by saying that we need to see how much damage there is ' _this_ time'?"

Gilbert was removing his coat and gave her a stern look. "Because I'm a smart fellow," he said coolly. "And I'm betting this happens to you quite a lot. Oh, and _also_ because Susan's been coming to ask me how to take care of your foot."

Anne sat up then, indignant. "Well, _really_ -"

He bent over to begin unlacing her boot. "She felt it was getting beyond her, and I'm beginning to see _why_ , when you've been so stubborn about coming-" Suddenly he broke off to glare at her, a low growl in his voice. "So help me, Anne; tell me that this isn't about _money_ -"

Anne let out a sigh of exasperation. "It's not about that."

"Then _why_ -"

Anne attempted to look as dignified under the circumstances as she could. "Gilbert, you have chronic patients, don't you?"

He stopped, looking puzzled. "Err- yes…"

"Then you know that they can't call you for everything. As little as I like it, this is a part of my life now." She drew in a sharp breath. "Although to be fair, it's not usually this bad."

He shook his head and gently eased off her shoe. She made no sound, although he could see it was hurting by the way her hands clenched. Her stockings, however, made him pause. Summoning the best bland expression he had, he placed the shoe on the ground.

"Are you alright to manage your ah- this?"

Anne closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Yes. Just give me a minute."

Gilbert stood then and turned to the kitchen. "Right. I'll be back."

When he left the room, Anne was swift to discard the stocking. She gritted her teeth, cursing herself for the impulsive wish that had landed her in this predicament- and with Gilbert Blythe, no less! Well, she'd done it this time. She shook her head, pulling herself further upright. The least she could do was to make it easier on them both- he shouldn't know how embarrassed she was. This was easier said than done when he carried in a basin of water and a few rolls of the bandage Susan kept nearby. To her horror, her sense of humour would intrude- the impish voice in the back of her mind reminding her that of all the doctors who had pulled up her skirts, she would have sworn that Gilbert Blythe wouldn't _ever_ -

To her consternation, he seemed to be wrestling with something as well- she could see it in the frown he was working to maintain, the suspicious tightening of his lips. Without meaning to she caught his eye, and a peal of laughter escaped her- only to attempt to apologise with her next breath. He had turned from her to slump on the floor, and Anne's eyes were huge as she heard him begin to laugh as well. As the two of them gasped for breath, something seemed to dissolve in the room then, a tension that had been weeks- perhaps _years_ \- in the making. At last Anne wiped her eyes, clutching her side with a faint groan that brought Gilbert's wits back to him.

"Anne, I'm sorry-" he said, attempting to sober up. "But I swear this is something that could only happen to us."

The tremor in her voice was still there when she replied. "Undoubtedly. I'm sorry for laughing. I just never thought that something like this could happen," Anne said feebly.

A sudden warm feeling went through him. How many times in the past had they laughed like this? She'd tripped him by accident once, and he fell in a puddle- they'd laughed until they cried, collapsed at the foot of an old tree. He drew in a deep breath then. They weren't children anymore, and time and distance had changed them both. And for now, she was his patient. "Right- no more laughing. We've got work to do."

Anne sobered. With an effort, she remembered the past, the many years that had passed between them. He bent down to move her foot carefully, and suddenly laughter seemed impossible. She studied him, a longing look that he didn't see in her grey eyes. He wore his hair shorter now- the face that had always been handsome was even more so, and Anne could finally admit that he was the most attractive man she had ever known. She watched him roll up his sleeves, a lump coming into her throat that had nothing to with the sharp pain in her leg. Eight years had passed- and the hazel eyes that had once looked at her with affection now belonged to those of a stranger.

"Ready?"

Anne managed a faint smile. "Ready, doctor."

He moved the skirts aside, grimacing at the bruising over her ankle. Something caught his eye then, and he pushed the petticoats higher up, horrified eyes seeing the extent of the scarring over her lower leg. "Dear God," he whispered. He turned to look at her, his face pale. "Anne, how are you even walking?" She gave a little shiver, and he put his hand on her. "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect- I didn't realise-" he let out a breath and shook his head. "Alright. I'm just going to see if it's broken. This may hurt a little."

Anne's teeth were clenched as he probed the bones, and then she relaxed. His touch was more gentle than she had expected, and his quick look of apology made her smile faintly.

"Well, you've certainly sprained it," Gilbert muttered, running his hand along her shin, "But it's not broken. You were lucky." He traced the line of scars with a frown. "I do wish Jeremy could see this." Anne grimaced, as he began to knead her calf muscles with probing fingers. "Are the muscles always this tight?" Her shoulders lifted, and he saw that she had caught her breath with pain, and gently released her. "Look, I'll talk with Susan about how to manage that every day, however, we need to stop this from happening." He gave her a sharp look. "Anne, Whatever possessed you to go to the woods by yourself? What if I'd not come?"

"I wanted to see them before the winter," Anne admitted softly, and he sighed. "I suppose at times I want more freedom than my body will give me."

Gilbert had turned from her to the basin of water, something in his heart tearing at the way she spoke so calmly. He cleared his throat, his brow lowered and knelt by her side.

Anne jumped a little, as he began to wash her foot, her grey eyes enormous. "What are you doing?"

"I would have thought it obvious."

Anne was still, the mixture of guilt and gratitude making her strangely tearful. When he was done, he began to wrap her ankle firmly. A small sound left her at the sharp pain, and she closed her mouth, trying to control the rolling of her stomach, a feeling of panic growing. _Oh, not now, not now of all places…_

"Who- who is Jeremy?" she asked faintly.

Gilbert looked up in surprise. "We went to medical school together, and then to the hospital." He gave the bandage a final look and sat back. "He specialised in Osteology; we used to work together on accident cases."

Anne tried to gather her thoughts. "What did you specialise in?"

Gilbert took the bowl up, with a slight smile. "Surgery. It turns out I have a gift for cutting people up." He looked down at her, slightly puzzled, at the face that had suddenly lost all colour. "Anne, what's the matter?"

She shook her head, and to her horror the after-effects of the shock made themselves felt, and in a flash, he had the bowl under her as Anne proceeded to throw up. He supported her and simply waited. "It's alright, nearly over-" he murmured, his hand rubbing her back. When at last she lay back on the lounge breathing heavily, he gave her a grin. "Well. That was dramatic. Will you be alright while I go and deal with this?"

Anne nodded with her hands covering her face, her embarrassment extreme. When he returned he had a glass of water, and helped her to sit up.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert, I'm so sorry-"

Gilbert chuckled. "Come on, this is my job. It happens."

She gave him an apologetic smile. "It seems to happen anytime- well, _this_ happens."

He sighed. "That's pretty normal. But Anne, you can't keep doing this."

To his consternation, tears began to puddle in her eyes. "I know. I keep trying to do things like I used to- and I realise that I can't."

His look was frank. "No. You can't. If you broke it again-"

He saw her shiver, and rubbed a hand along her arm, watching her curiously. "Did you ever speak to a psychologist about this?"

Anne looked at him, bemused. "Why?"

"Sometimes a big trauma will leave certain after-effects."

She gave him a wry smile. "I think my leg is the after-effect, Gilbert."

The two of them turned then as they heard a key in the door, and Gilbert grinned at her slyly. "Now you're in for it-" he said in an undertone, chuckling at Anne's face.

Ten minutes later, Susan's voice, a good two octaves higher than usual was almost done with her scolding. Gilbert felt a measure of relief in seeing how she mothered Anne, recognising how desperately she needed that right now. Susan's brusque reactions even reminded him of Marilla a little, and he found himself smiling.

"I don't know what you were thinking," she said crossly. "What if no one had been coming that way? What if you'd still been sitting there now?"

Anne shrugged pragmatically. "Susan, dear, the pain is only extreme for a short time. When it passed I would have been able to get myself home, that's why I have the stick."

Gilbert was doing up his cuffs and frowned crossly. "The stick is meant to assist your injured foot, not replace it completely. And if you have to go out into the woods, someone should accompany you."

A faint smile found its way to Anne's face, seeing that Susan's ire had re-awoken his. "I told you, it was just an impulse, Gilbert."

"Oh, I know all about your impulses," he muttered, bending to check the bandage again. "I do not want to see a repeat of this again."

Susan's eyes were wide as she watched the young doctor and her mistress together. She didn't know what it was, exactly- it was like watching a married couple squabble. And how on earth were they on a first name basis?

As Gilbert pulled his coat on, Susan stood up, her arms folded. "Thank you, doctor. Now, could the two of you do with some tea?"

Gilbert felt himself hesitate, strangely wanting to say yes. "Are you up for tea, Anne?"

Her face was surprised, but she smiled. "That would be lovely, unless you have somewhere you need to be."

He shrugged easily. "Nowhere- I was just at home tonight."

There was a silence that threatened to be awkward when Susan left the room, and Anne pulled herself upright again with a sigh and placed her foot on the stool.

"Well, I thank you for all of your help- and for showing me what Gilbert Blythe, MD is like."

Gilbert turned to her with a slight grin. "Oh? And how do you think I did?"

Anne chuckled. "Well, as someone who has seen their share of doctors, I think very nicely. They weren't as gentle as you were."

"If you had met me at the hospital you may not have found me like that either," he commented and grinned. "It's why I left- to have more time to see patients. Excellent training, though."

"And your friend- is it Jeremy? Is he still there?"

He smiled. "And will be forever. He's still not happy about me leaving. Although he says he'll come out here sometime to see what general practice looks like in 'the woods'. He's a swell doctor, though- he wrote papers about treating breaks similar to yours."

Anne's face was pale. "I'd rather read something else, I think. I do owe a good deal to the Summerside doctors, actually," she said slowly. "They did everything they could to fix it, when it would have been easier to simply label me as an invalid. I didn't want that."

Gilbert looked at her thoughtfully. "I can see why. Anne, why didn't you go home?" He saw immediately that her look was distant, and sighed. "I know you explained about needing to work- I just don't understand why the people back home don't know more about this. Why didn't you tell them what happened?"

She licked suddenly dry lips. "They all knew-"

"Anne, _no_ one talks about it-"

Her eyes were blazing, then. "It was _all_ they talked about- 'poor Anne, can't even walk now'-"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up emphatically. "I _knew_ it- this is about your _pride_ -"

"It's _not_!"

"Is _so!_. Is this why you wouldn't come to me when you needed help?" he said, aggravated.

"Gilbert, I can't call the doctor for every little scrape-"

"You thought _today_ was a minor scrape!" he snapped.

The raised voices carried through to Susan laying the tray in the kitchen, and she froze, wondering what on earth was going on.

Gilbert sat back on his chair, arms folded, and his voice rational. "Anne, you need to be able to call someone. Susan isn't qualified to diagnose an injury-"

"Gilbert, I already said that I was wrong about today!" Anne said shortly. "I made a mistake."

"Right. So we have nothing to be yelling about then."

Anne looked toward the fireplace and scowled. After a moment, she spoke. "Anytime I go back to Avonlea, I feel as if everyone is watching me to see how I am handling it- you _know_ our village. I don't want the questions, I don't need everyone asking me what happened."

"Anne, _I_ asked you that."

She sighed, pushing a loose red curl behind one ear. "I know. But when it's only to fuel gossip- when people stop and stare, I hate it. I don't want to be pitied-"

"Look, I can understand that. But there are also good people who love you, and would support you if you only opened up to them."

"They all already _know_ what happened."

Gilbert's look was candid. "No, Anne, they _don't_. My parents lived a twenty-minute walk from Marilla and Rachel, they attended the same church as them and _they_ didn't know anything. How did Rachel Lynde never tell anyone?"

Anne swallowed. "Because I asked her not to."

He sighed. "Look, just think about it. You know Marilla wouldn't want you to cut off from everyone." He saw the look on her face at the mention of her adoptive mother and stopped.

Susan arrived then with the tray and was startled to see them calmly talking, now. Unusually speechless, she poured the tea, leaving the room as soon as she was done.

Anne looked at the tray, with a smile. Susan had outdone herself with supper- on Gilbert's behalf, she knew; Susan by now was well used to Anne's habits. She almost chuckled seeing the ravenous look that Gilbert gave the tray.

"You see? Susan leaves no one hungry. Your housekeeper won't worry that you aren't home for dinner?"

Gilbert took up his tea with a twisted grin. "Mrs Leary won't worry, she won't stay past five, and only cooks a few times a week. It was beef stew tonight. It was beef stew last night and the one before that. _You're_ the one who did well as to housekeepers."

Anne gave him an amused look. "I should say so, since Susan has to do a great deal more that just cook for me. She doesn't have the easiest job- and I certainly couldn't do this without her."

Around the food that Gilbert piled high on his plate, the two of them found themselves relaxing as Anne asked about the practice in Four Winds.

He answered her easily. "Uncle Dave always intended to pass it to me, but as I went through medical school, I figured that I had time- so I went to Montreal first. It was good, but I'm sorry I wasn't a couple of months earlier, to save Uncle Dave from worrying. He loved these people."

Anne's eyes were on her teacup. "I never pictured you in a hospital- especially after I spending so much time in one." Suddenly she laughed. "Did the staff follow you around with your files and such? All of the most important doctors I saw seemed to have satellites." She looked at the sheepish look on his face and chuckled. "I _thought_ so."

"I do miss the adulation, I won't lie about that," he said, grinning. He reached for another piece of pie then. "This is brilliant- I admit, I only eat this well if I'm at the Winstons- although it's more about time than anything else."

Anne set her cup down with suddenly shaking hands, which she tried to hide. "Mr Winston and his family were lovely- and Lizzie is a darling."

"She is. Andrew's lived here for five years- his wife was from Four Winds. He and Penny are from Montreal. When they heard I was from there, they somewhat adopted me."

Anne gathered herself together and spoke calmly. "Penny is lovely, Gil."

At this he looked at her sharply, his cheeks flushed, and he was shocked to see the hesitant smile on her face.

"You know what these towns are like for spreading word. For instance, I'm prepared to bet that you heard I was an invalid long before you knew it was me."

He gave a short laugh. "I did. All the talk in town was you, even weeks before you got here."

Anne's look was thoughtful. "Well, everyone has been wonderfully supportive- I couldn't wish for a better reception, really."

Gilbert nodded, taking another biscuit. Even he was surprised at an appetite he hadn't had in years. Had he even managed to eat lunch that day?

"They're good people. I've enjoyed the Glen- and there are several people here I would call friends."

She nodded calmly, no sign of the ache in her heart visible. "You can find family wherever you go- I've found that to be true in my life."

He nodded, staring at the fireplace. "Did you have that in Summerside?"

To his relief her smile was genuine. "I did. For the first year, I boarded with three older ladies, who adopted me, so to speak. They were lovely- however, I soon realised that I was tired of living out of a suitcase, and I moved into an apartment the following summer. They still had me for dinner twice a week- they were such darlings when- when I got hurt." Her grey eyes shone with tears. "I had a dear friend who moved away several years ago- she was my vice principal. It was Katherine who suggested that I try a smaller school to start again. She's coming here to see me when her employer returns to Kingsport in January- he's a member of Parliament. And I think that Diana may visit when the harvest work is done."

Gilbert smiled. "That'll be nice for you."

There was a moment of uneasy silence then, as Gilbert wondered if Diana had written of his visit. He flushed again, thinking of the mad way he had flown back to Avonlea- and to no purpose. He looked over at her calm face and was struck again by the change in her. Remembering the girl who had refused to forgive him so long ago, he was still surprised that she had done so now. Was it the injury that had changed her, or was it some faint recognition of their past? Suddenly, he found his throat burning. He hadn't done that. He'd pushed all memory of her from his life- throwing himself into the studies that energised him, working every holiday he might conceivably return home for- having no wish to see Mrs Gardiner and her new husband in Avonlea.

Now, he looked at her settled alone in her house, so sure she'd have been in a palace by now- and he found himself wondering if she regretted refusing Gardner. He swallowed, seeing again the horrific scarring along her leg- that wouldn't have been there. Her eyes were closed now, and with a jolt he recollected himself. She needed sleep, and he was suddenly exhausted.

"I should let you get some rest," he said quietly, and she gave him a faint smile.

"You look tired too, Gilbert. You should have had a relaxing night instead of this."

He shrugged and stood up. "I can never guarantee that I won't be called on- and at least you're safe now." He studied her then. "You shouldn't be on that foot for at least two days, and you need to use crutches to move around for a few days."

Anne's voice was subdued. "I have some in the attic. I'll use those."

"Well, in the meantime-" As Susan came to the door, he bent down to lift her carefully, ignoring the squeak of horror from Anne. "Susan, which room upstairs is it?"

"Downstairs-" Anne said, her face red with shame. "I don't go upstairs."

At this Gilbert's own step faltered, and he covered his embarrassment with a scowl. "Well, I said not to walk, so you can practice not walking _now_."

Susan had gone ahead of them to open the door, and Gilbert saw that the small fire was already lit. He set her on the edge of the bed, and stood up awkwardly, not knowing how to leave. Somehow in the room with them was the memory of what they had once been, eight years of separation that seemed impossible to breach, and perfectly sensible barriers that the night seemed determined to betray.

Anne could read the discomfort on his face and sought to release him. "Thank you, Gilbert. Susan will come to pay my bill this week."

At this, he seemed to stumble. "I- no. This wasn't- this is hardly a standard visit. And I don't often get fed- well, sometimes it happens. I don't know. Just- don't."

Anne's chin came up, and a steady smile was on her face. "I was raised by Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, Doctor Blythe. The doctor is _always_ paid first." She sighed at the stubborn look on his face. "We'll see you this week. And Gilbert- once again, I am very grateful." She met his eyes then, and as his shoulders dropped in what appeared to be relief, he nodded and left the bedroom with Susan.

He gathered his scarf from the sitting room, taking a last look around. How swiftly they had become comfortable again- and yet it couldn't be real. Still- it had been- pleasant. As he made it to the kitchen he was met with a grim Susan and a basket of baked food. He gave her a startled look.

"Meg Leary never bothered much with making a home comfortable, I dare say she doesn't do it now." She thrust it into Gilbert's hands, and the spoke in a quieter voice, her eye on the bedroom door. "Thank you, doctor. She doesn't often let anyone help her. I don't know how you did it- but you made her laugh at least."

He swallowed. "It was- nothing."

When Susan closed the door behind him, he stood at the gate looking at the light in what must be Anne's bedroom with a feeling of unreality. He pulled his coat around him with a shiver. Winter was truly on its way now- soon he would have to forego the walks that had been his sanity when patients and busyness intruded.

The house was dark when he got home, and he looked at the untidy pile of wood on the verandah. He should cut that tomorrow. When he lit the lantern, he placed the basket in the pantry and looked wistfully at the cold living room. The throws his mother had made on the couch, the few photographs on the mantelpiece. Anne had made her stone house a home- surely he could do better for himself here. Maybe it was time to make some changes- to make it a place worth coming home to.

* * *

It was late at night when Susan came to check on Anne before she went to bed. To her surprise, Anne was still awake, watching the firelight flicker across the walls.

"Anne, are you in pain?"

She shifted on her pillows, and gave Susan a smile. "It's alright. Doctor Blythe was very thorough in his bandaging, I think that helps. I must remember that for next time," she said thoughtfully. At Susan's scowl, she sighed. "And I will try to make sure there is no next time."

Susan straightened the counterpane on the bed and looked to Anne curiously. "You and he seem to get on quite well."

Anne's face was shadowed. "Yes. We do seem to." She took pity on her housekeeper and spoke carefully. "Doctor Blythe is from Avonlea, Susan. We knew each other long ago."

Susan's eyebrows went up in shock. "And now you live in the same town again. Did you know he was here?"

She hesitated then. "No. That was a- surprise."

Susan nodded and moved to the side of the bed to refill her water glass. "I suppose you know him fairly well then?"

A queer look was on her face then, one that Susan could not read. "Not as well as I have learned to know myself." Anne's head turned away on her pillow, and her voice was quiet in the dim room. "That's the thing about a book of revelation, Susan. Once you've read it, you can't pretend that you haven't."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

On Monday morning, Andrew walked into the surgery to see Gilbert at his desk writing furiously. He'd finished his own paperwork for the day, and was looking for some distraction. He studied his friend, puzzled. It really _did_ seem furious- although what had the piece of paper had done to offend him?

"Where were you all weekend?" he asked casually.

Gilbert threw his pen down with a sigh. "Working. A breech presentation on Saturday, and yesterday Frank Simmons put a hoe through his foot."

"Good grief, what was the man doing hoeing in November?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Proving that he could, according to his wife. He's lucky he didn't cut it off."

Andrew nodded. He watched Gilbert slash a T on his page viciously and chuckled. "What's got you all riled up?"

Gilbert didn't raise his head, but his mouth was set in a grim line. "She paid me."

Andrew stared at him. "A patient paid? What's wrong with that?"

He let out an infuriated sigh. "Because I told her _not_ to. But she did anyway. She is the single most stubborn woman alive- so _I'm- writing- her- notes- up,"_ he said through gritted teeth- "If she's insisting on being treated like a patient, she's going in the books, and I'm not writing the watered-down- _everything-is-fine_ version that she gave me."

Andrew sat down opposite him with a grin. "You _are_ in a strop. Look here, I'm checking that you're coming tonight- you said you would. Lizzie wants you to be there for her birthday dinner." He watched Gilbert reference a handwritten note and looked at him curiously. "Look, why does this have you so steamed up?" Andrew asked. "If my clients didn't delay paying, I'd be thrilled."

"Well, _Anne_ doesn't, apparently," Gilbert grumbled.

Andrew choked slightly. "You mean it's _her_?"

"Yes," Gilbert said crossly. "And she didn't even have to call me- I found her by accident in the woods after she'd fallen."

As Andrew sat back, his look was bewildered. "Is she alright? What was she doing in the woods?"

Gilbert raised one eyebrow with an obvious look. "Because it's _Anne_."

"If you say so." Andrew watched him carefully, then. "I rather thought the two of you didn't have much in common anymore."

"We don't- or we do. I don't know which."

Andrew began to laugh uproariously. "Good grief! You are muddled."

Gilbert's shoulders relaxed, and he couldn't help a sheepish grin. "Alright, I haven't slept that much lately. I'm a bit off my stride."

Andrew grinned sardonically. "Clearly. Look, Gil, she's showing you professional courtesy. Do you know how many 'friends' suddenly needed legal advice as soon as I graduated law school? For free, of course."

Gilbert sat back on his chair with a sigh. "Look, it just seems wrong to take her money for something that cost me nothing."

"You trained for _how_ long-"

"Not that!" Gilbert said impatiently. "For just- helping. She sprained her ankle- it wasn't difficult. For Pete's sake, she used to study with me back at Redmond- you should have seen her face when we had to memorise the bones of the skeleton in first year. She hated me beating her."

Andrew had a thoughtful frown on his face that luckily Gilbert didn't see, and sighed.

"Well, you said it yourself, she's your patient now. You need to respect her wishes. She's obviously independent, and not wanting to take advantage of an old acquaintance. To me that's commendable. And it isn't like you see her that often."

At this Gilbert nodded, his face closed. He supposed he didn't- and was not comfortable with the fact that it bothered him. How would he know if she was well?

When not on calls, Gilbert had been at home that weekend. Chopping wood, rearranging furniture and organising his home. By Sunday evening he had the living room fire lit, and bookcases at last filled with books. He'd spoken to Mrs Leary, asking her to make sure the fires were lit when she left at five thirty- coming home to a cold house last winter had been hard. He'd also stocked his pantry better- that morning he had brought home a crate of food that he could cook for himself. With some surprise, he had remembered that he'd become a reasonable cook in Alberta with his father. He had sat in the warm room looking around his house with a contentment he hadn't had in a while. It was small, and it was dingy- but it could still be home.

To Gilbert's relief, back in the present Andrew seemed happy to change the subject. He left with a promise from Gilbert that he would be there that night, and it was a much calmer Gilbert that sat down to work at his desk until it was time for rounds. Set to head out of town, he drove past the schoolhouse on the way. Faintly as he passed, he listened to the sound of the children's voices, and briefly wondered if he could hear hers as well.

* * *

By Friday, a tired but content Anne was back to normal, hearing lessons and working problems. Although it had been hard to struggle into her boots that morning, she was rewarded with a warm welcome by her students, and couldn't help but smile at the apple that had been placed on her desk by some shy person. Teaching had its rewards- those that went far beyond salaries and commendations from the school inspector.

That afternoon, she walked home, her eyes avoiding the temptation of the nearby woods. With a wry chuckle, she swung her crutches over the path, kept clear of debris by one of the school families. Again, she was thankful for the way she had been embraced by the community- for the way they had worked to make it possible for her to teach. A young man had shown up at the door on Tuesday morning, telling Susan that he had been asked to put in a rail that led to the front door from the gate. Susan had waylaid him with a box of cookies in lieu of the thank-you that she couldn't say. Anything that made Anne's life and work easier touched her deeply- in the short months she had worked for her, she had come to adore her young mistress. The word _young_ would persist, Susan thought at times confusedly- despite the fact that she knew that Anne was almost twenty-nine.

Slowly she had been putting together what she knew about her life before Four Winds- although many questions still remained unanswered. Oh, she knew where she had been, Anne had told her of the school she had come from and of the hometown that lay on the North shore- but there was no talk of the family she had left behind, although she knew that she was in mourning following the death of the woman who had adopted her. Instinctively knowing that Anne did not want to be questioned on these matters, Susan had kept quiet, instead devoting herself to what she could influence- Anne's health and well-being.

That Susan had no answers to the questions about her relationship with Doctor Gilbert Blythe was another matter that she kept entirely to herself.

Anne had begun to put out tentative roots in Glen St Mary. At times her heart still ached for Avonlea, for the places she had loved and the girl she had been there, however she saw the many ways in which she had been blessed, for the people that surrounded her. Oh, there were still those who held her at arm's length, however, Mrs Marshall Elliot had spoken of her in so forceful and warm a manner that few were willing to contradict her. Miss Cornelia visited Anne whenever she came down to the Glen, and Anne had begun to look forward to hearing her news, and seeing the ever enjoyable arguments between her and Susan.

So well had Anne learned to discipline her mind, that she found she could continue as she was, building a life again, layer upon layer. The life she had once led was compartmentalised for now- left to be examined when she was at leisure to do so. That Christmas was coming had not escaped her, and she found that she was torn- wanting to go, and yet wishing to stay away. Her word had been given though, and she knew that Diana was impatient to see her.

Di had asked a few careful questions in her letters about Gilbert, and Anne had hedged. She had not wished to say much in letters. Gilbert's presence had been a more of a shock than she had expected it to be- and yet to a heart that had taken so many severe blows lately, this one outwardly seemed to touch her little. It was only in the night that she allowed her mind to find him- to wonder what he was doing, if he was well.

To wonder if she could somehow survive seeing him marry another.

Needless to say, for the last week, there had been little sleep.

Her words to him about Penny had not been accidental- she had thought about it constantly. She had enough trouble with hidden things taking up space, this was one she hoped to remove. And yet the ghost of it had remained, his presence in her house had only confirmed that. This was now _his_ chair, that was _his_ teacup. It had been that way even at Green Gables, she remembered.

* * *

December came in with a bluster. On a particularly cold day, the wind whipped past people hurrying along the streets. Gilbert watched them from his office windows with a shiver- as everyone else was heading for home, he needed to be going out.

However, before he found the resolve to put his heavy coat on, the door thudded open, and a boy who should have been in school stood in the doorway, gasping for breath. Gilbert was on his feet in seconds and pulling on his coat.

"Jerry, what is it?"

The boy was fighting to find his breath, and Gilbert had pulled his bag from the shelf and donned his scarf, waiting impatiently.

"We- need you at the schoolhouse."

Gilbert turned pale. "Miss Shirley? Is she alright?"

"No- it's Emma Watts."

Gilbert lost no time in getting them out the door. All Jerry could say was that Emma had fallen, and Miss Shirley had said to go for Doctor Blythe. Within minutes they had pulled up at the school, and he gave Jerry instructions to tie the horse up to the fence, as he leapt from the buggy with his bag in hand.

To his surprise, a boy of about fourteen stood at the front of the classroom reading aloud, and Gilbert looked around for Anne, bewildered. It was then that he heard her voice. "Well done, Angus. Cassie, would you please take over with the next chapter now?"

He hastened to her side as another chapter of Treasure Island began. Gilbert moved to the back of the class to see the young girl lying on her side, her eyes shut and slight tremors in her limbs, as Anne sat beside her on the ground. He knelt beside her, his voice low.

"What happened?"

Anne gave a smile to the anxious girls watching, her voice even. "She had a seizure a short time ago. She's conscious now, but I didn't want to move her until she'd been checked. Her sister has gone to get her parents."

Gilbert bent down to check her, his voice light. "She wasn't responsive?"

Anne shook her head, the pucker on her forehead telling him that she was more nervous than she appeared. "No, I heard a noise, and she had fallen from her chair. I couldn't rouse her at first."

"Was she convulsing?"

"Yes. Her sister said it happened once last year- the children were terribly frightened."

Gilbert was checking her heart rate and her breathing all the while and gave a faint smile. "Well, Treasure Island seems to be working right now."

Anne let out a sigh, her voice soft. "It's a trick I learned some time ago."

Gilbert saw the girl's eyes flutter slightly, and placed his hand on her cheek. "And you're sure she didn't just faint? She hasn't been unwell?"

Anne shook her head. "I don't believe so. There was no warning. I've seen it before- I had a student in Summerside who suffered from them." Anne's voice was quiet as she smoothed the hair over the child's forehead. "I must get back to the class- I'll leave her with you now." She made to move, and Gilbert was quick to help her to her feet. He turned back to his patient, and with one ear listened as Anne drew the class back to herself.

"Thank you, Cassie and Angus, and well done to everyone for listening so well. If you would like to read more of Treasure Island, then we need to get our work done this afternoon." Gilbert could hear the smile in her voice. "Now, Doctor Blythe is here in the classroom for a little while, and something that you _may_ not be aware of is that he is a qualified teacher as well as a doctor- so I expect you to do your very best learning in front of him today." He chuckled, and for just a moment he met her twinkling eyes, watching her become businesslike again. "Children, please take out your history books."

By the time Emma was able to stand, her father had arrived, and Gilbert asked him to bring her in to his office the following day. He stood at the back of the classroom then, lifting his hand to let Anne know he was going. He watched her nod, and turned to leave on his rounds.

* * *

It was well after four when Anne turned at the sound of a buggy. Gilbert was striding up from the road, and she met him at the door to the classroom with a concerned look.

"Is Emma alright?" she asked.

"She's home resting now," Gilbert said, leaning against the door frame. "The family are coming in to see me tomorrow." There was a pause then, and Anne studied his lean face wistfully.

"Do you think that they know?"

He shrugged and sighed. "I don't know." He looked around at him, his hazel eyes not seeing the landscape. "This is the part I hate," he said, with a faint smile. He looked up to see that her big grey eyes were on his, and for a moment it gave him an odd feeling- that she _understood_. A moment later and he pulled himself together.

"Are you nearly finished?"

Anne turned back to the classroom, and he followed her in through the door. "I believe so. I have yet to wipe off the board-" she stopped in consternation, seeing him turn to do it now. "Gilbert, you really don't have to."

"Well, I'd like to see you make me do it if I _didn't_ want to."

She chuckled. "I wouldn't. But thank you."

He kept working, wondering why he had come back exactly- to let her know about Emma, he supposed. She was worried. He saw her turn to her desk, gathering the papers together, and moving to shut the windows. "How's the foot?"

Anne bent to pick up a book that had fallen from the bookcase. "Better, thank you. I still have it wrapped, and Susan is enforcing the crutches each day."

He turned to her, dusting the chalk over his trousers in a way that made her smile- remembering the times he would come to her house on a Friday, after getting home from White Sands. A faint memory of his mother getting cross at him for leaving chalk in his pockets hit her, and she turned from him abruptly. No, thoughts of the Blythe house mustn't happen- quietly she shoved it down, sitting at her desk again. To her surprise, Gilbert was in no hurry, and he strolled around the classroom with his hands in his pockets, looking at the posters on the walls. Methodically sorting the papers into piles, she glanced up from time to time, briefly wondering why he was there.

"I suppose the life of a principal was very different to this," he commented.

Anne chuckled, beginning to put the pages in her basket. "Would you believe me if I said that I enjoyed this more?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Anne smiled. "I didn't realise how much I had missed the younger children, to be honest. So eager to learn- and it gives me a chance to inspire them with a love of learning early- you and I are proof of what you can accomplish if learning is made attractive."

He shrugged again. "I think you and I were just wired that way."

Anne folded her arms on the desk thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But a good teacher helps a lot. By the time the students arrive at high school, learning patterns are set, and poor attitudes are harder to correct."

Gilbert sat down on a nearby desk, seeming in no hurry to be gone. "I sometimes forget how much you loved to teach," he commented. "I enjoyed it- but it was never the end goal for me like it was for you."

Anne slumped a little, resting her chin on her hands. "Back then I thought that it wouldn't be for me, either. I was to be a famous novelist, remember."

He looked at her curiously. "Do you still write?"

She gave a laugh that held a small note of regret in it. "I haven't written in years- not since Redmond, I think. Once or twice I tried while I was in Summerside- but I never seemed to feel the same spark again."

Gilbert nodded, seemingly absently. "Maybe now you can."

Anne thought it unlikely, but nodded. She was silent for a moment. "What will you need to tell the family tomorrow?"

His brown hand come up to ruffle his hair tiredly. "That I think their daughter might have epilepsy." Anne studied him with compassion, seeing the weight that sat on his shoulders, and her voice was gentle. "It's still better that they know."

Hr folded his arms and gave her a brief smile. "Are you alright after today? You seemed to handle it very calmly."

Anne leant back on her chair. "Cissy had several seizures during her time at Summerside- Katherine and I spoke to her parents about it all, and they agreed to let her continue her education if we spoke to the doctors about what to do. She graduated two years ago now."

Gilbert found himself watching her carefully. He was holding her up, he knew that- but she wasn't rushing to get away, and he himself was reluctant to move as well.

"You and Katherine are close, by the sound of it."

Anne's smile was fond, and for a moment he found himself smiling back in response. "We are. I've missed her terribly- but I'm so glad she took the chance to go to Redmond."

Gilbert was surprised. "Redmond? When?"

"While you were there, actually. She went to take a secretarial course when you would have been in your final year, I believe. Katherine never liked teaching."

"And you recognised her as a kindred spirit right away?"

Anne's brow furrowed. "Not exactly. We had a- complicated beginning."

Gilbert was surprised, but only nodded. "Well, I assume you worked it out quickly enough. And were you welcomed well at the school?" he asked lightly and was unprepared for the way she stilled. She gave him an odd smile.

"No, not exactly. Summerside and I have a 'complicated' history as well."

Gilbert watched her in curiosity. "Well, we seem to have time now."

Anne sighed and spoke frankly. "Very well. Summerside is quite a big town- and most of it is run by one family- the Pringles. They are not welcoming of outsiders."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "You were seen as that."

"To put it mildly. Three people went for my position- Katherine, myself and a Josiah Pringle. When I accepted the position a few weeks before our Convocation, I had no idea that I had already made enemies before stepping foot in the town."

He gave a slight chuckle. "Isn't 'enemy' a little over-dramatic?" Anne simply looked back at him, and his smile faltered.

"No, not really, Gilbert," she said, her voice even. "When I started work there I found that the Pringles were quite determined to see me leave. The students were encouraged by their families to misbehave, and rather nasty incidents kept happening in the school. Malicious notes, students consistently late or absent, parents coming in to lecture me about the way I taught and disciplined the classes. My personal life was investigated and gossipped about- and the students were told to not show me any respect."

Gilbert's look was uncertain. "The parents allowed it?"

"The parents arranged it," Anne said quietly. "It was after Christmas when it all came to a head. I was discouraged and didn't know what to do- and I was due for a review with the board the following week. I was fairly sure that I was going to be asked to resign. However a- a prank misfired." There was a sadness that crossed her face then, a disillusionment that had shattered her when she realised how much they had wanted her gone. "A student had placed a lit firework in a drawer- mine. However, I was late to the room because I was dealing with another issue involving a Pringle- and I arrived to find a commotion in the room. The firework had gone off early, and as a result, another student lost the sight in one eye."

Gilbert's face was stunned. "What happened?"

Anne gave a slightly bitter smile. "I'm sure you can imagine the furore. Because an accident had occurred, and the student was taken to hospital, the authorities were summoned. The board was there within an hour, and they called for my resignation immediately. However, when the students were interviewed, the young lady who had placed it there broke down and confessed everything- and her testimony was then backed up by the others. The boy who was injured was from an influential family as well, but not a Pringle- his father was on the board- and the student who placed it there was the daughter of another board member- and suddenly the school was at war within itself. I was required to testify, and the Board of Education became involved. There was even talk of closing the school for a time."

Gilbert sat there, unmoving, watching her face. "What did you do?"

Anne drew in a deep breath. "Well, I stayed. I came to realise that the students who had been involved were not only very sorry, but were a product of their families' prejudices. If I left I would always have felt that I had failed- both the school and myself. I was required to be there fairly constantly for the first year, trying to bring some stability back to the school again- several of the bigger Pringle families left the town in the wake of the scandal, and some funding went along with them. It took time, but eventually, the town came around- the students and eventually their families."

Gilbert struggled to find words. "And where was Katherine in all of this?"

Anne gave him a regretful smile. "What you need to understand is that Katherine had a background almost as damaging as mine." He looked at her then, his eyes wary. "She was hurting and alone for a long time, and she wouldn't let me get close at all. She once told me that she was glad that the Pringles had made trouble for me, at first. When everything blew up, there were many nights when I was working late- and on one of them, she came into my office and sat down with me. She asked me if I was going to leave- if I would leave the school now that I had been vindicated. And then she asked why I hadn't told the board about the way that she had treated me."

Gilbert stared hard at Anne, and began to nod. "But you wouldn't do that."

"No." Anne said simply. "It took time, but she began to open up, and eventually we became close- we started functioning as a team, and the school slowly turned around. I missed her terribly when she left."

Gilbert let out a long breath, trying to regain his equilibrium. "And you're happy? You're happy that you chose to go- that you stayed there? Even with what happened to you later on?"

Anne drew in a deep breath and stood to her feet to pack her belongings. Her voice was quiet, and Gilbert waited nervously to see if he had upset her.

"Yes." Her glance was clear, and she met his eyes evenly. "I learnt a lot about myself in that time. I learnt that I was too dependent on people liking me- that I had to separate that from myself to lead properly. I think I did good work- and I'm proud of my time there." She gave a short sigh, as Gilbert stood and handed her the walking stick. He was watching her closely, seeing more than she was aware of in her expression. "I suppose that I had lived in a dream world for so long- and I needed to come down to earth too," she added absently, and he swallowed hard.

Gilbert found himself unable to speak. He picked the basket up, and without looking at her, said to her gently "Come on. I'll walk you home."

* * *

When at last he stood at her door to say goodbye, he was surprised to see her smile at him. He found it hard to talk easily, at that moment.

"You had a big six years," he said, his voice quiet.

He placed her basket down on the step, and she turned to him, her grey eyes gentle. "So did you." There was a moment of silence then, and Anne's face had flushed. "Katherine graduated her studies in the same year you did. I- I told her that a- classmate of mine was finishing medical school that year. She wrote that you graduated at the top of your class."

He seemed unable to meet her eyes then, and nodded, his own face hot. "I did."

"I was very proud of you," she said, hesitantly. "I knew that you would make a wonderful doctor." She picked up her basket when the door was unlocked, and turned to go.

He cleared his throat, summoning a smile. "Well, this doctor says that you should stay off that foot as much as you can on the weekends," he said lightly. "It might keep you from enduring another visit from me."

Anne chuckled, and then watched him turn to go, her eyes serious. Even surprising herself, she stopped him. "Gilbert, I don't expect that you need to hear this, but the fact that tomorrow will be difficult for you- that's what makes you such a good doctor. It's your empathy."

He shook his head. "We're taught to do that, Anne."

Her smile was sad. "No, you're not- and you know that. That's all _you_."

As the door closed behind her, Gilbert stood still, his heart clenching with some indefinable emotion. When the wind picked up behind him, he slowly turned and walked out of the gate, back to where his horse grazed, patiently waiting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As Christmas drew near, Anne began to prepare for her return to Avonlea in a week. She had purchased trinkets for the Wright family, smiling to think of the children's excitement on Christmas morning. Diana had written that they would all be spending the day at Orchard Slope, with a late supper at Fred's parents. Anne had found herself growing more tired as the end of the school term approached, and wondered with a wry smile if the two of them would agree to leave her at home on Christmas night. She knew Diana was anxious to make sure that she felt no melancholy that day- here Anne gave a little smile- however, she felt that an evening in front of the fire at Lone Willow Farm would be far more of a restorative than an entire day spent surrounded by people.

Diana's parents had been wonderful, over the last few months. Mrs Barry had startled Anne at first by holding her tightly when she first came back to Green Gables, and to Anne's greater shock, the Barrys had never made a fuss about her lack of mobility. They had assisted her in closing up Green Gables for the time being, and Diana's mother had given the distraught girl steadying directions to hold on to. Diana's father had taken cartloads of food from the cellar to families in need, while Mrs Barry worked with Anne and Diana up the stairs in the bedrooms. She had been properly horrified to find small Anne Cordelia jumping on the big old beds up the stairs after they had been stripped, however, she ceased her scolding at Diana's nudge as together they watched Anne laugh for the first time since Marilla had passed away. Now, in the forget-me-not room at Rosewood Cottage, Anne pulled out the gift she had for Diana's parents with a little smile. She had been humbled to see the genuine affection the older couple had for her, and was looking forward to seeing them.

Anne had begun to steel herself for the greater trial awaiting her in Avonlea- the gathering of the townsfolk at the church services. After considerable resentment towards Gilbert, she had reluctantly been forced to admit that he was right- her pride was on the line when it came to the folk of their town. Of course, she thought dryly, that didn't explain why he hadn't returned either- perhaps he had his own issues in coming back to the place he had grown up in.

A knock at the door startled her, and Anne opened it to find Susan waiting, with her heavy winter coat on a hanger.

"Anne, the Mortons sent word to say they will be collecting you in an hour. Do you need any help to dress?"

Anne looked at the black gown carefully laid on the bed and sighed. Up in the attic were dresses of every conceivable colour- and she rubbed her forehead wistfully. "Thank you, Susan. That would be lovely."

She placed the presents in the suitcase that was rapidly filling and turned back to her housekeeper with a steady smile.

* * *

That evening, the dry, bracing cold was felt everywhere on the crystal clear night. Gilbert Blythe drove up the narrow road to the hall and was one of the last to arrive at the dance. He could hear the music coming from the building where lights flickered in the windows, and in the distance, the mournful bell of the little church struck. The dance was well under way- Gilbert had only time for a quick wash when he had arrived home, late, as usual. Mrs Leary had left his suit out as he had requested, along with a few rolls in lieu of dinner that night. He gave his uncooperative tie a useless tug as he walked toward the hall with some reluctance, stopping in the shadows for a brief moment. It had already been a long day- really, if he was honest, he would rather be in bed right now. Still, he'd promised Andrew and Penny that he would come tonight.

The room was in full swing, everyone whirling around in their winter best. It would be the last event of the year, and everywhere he looked the townsfolk were talking happily, dancing to the rustic music or hovering over the platters of food the women had provided. The Glen Hall was old- much older than the one that they had once painted blue, in fact. Gilbert was standing in the doorway watching absently when he was pounced on by the Winstons. Penny was lovely in a peach coloured gown, her dark hair piled high on the top of her head, and she wore a warm smile on her face.

"Gilbert, I'm so glad you made it!" she said brightly. "Isn't it glorious? It's almost like being at home."

Andrew guffawed at that. "You've been away from Montreal for too long, Kitten."

She rolled her eyes. "Drew, even you have to admit that it's been a long time since we went to a party."

Gilbert summoned a smile and offered her his arm with a courtly bow. "Then would you care to dance with me?"

She beamed, and Gilbert swept her out onto the floor, keeping time with the music easily. It had been a long time since he'd done this- and who knew- maybe this would blow the fog away from the day he had. As they moved around, he nodded at various families he knew, carefully sidestepping other couples keeping time on the floor. All around him was laughter. Hardworking people laying aside responsibilities for an evening of enjoyment, the hall decorated for Christmas with evergreen wreaths and red calico bows. The snow had held off so far this week, however, the cold wind coming up from the harbour was bitter, and on more than one occasion he had found himself nailing windows shut in some of the poorer houses, stuffing rags into cracks to insulate the families from the cold. He'd done his best- he'd _tried_ -

He suddenly realised that Penny had been talking to him, and tried to pay attention. "Gilbert? You seem distracted, this evening."

His cheeks flushed, and he gave an embarrassed smile. "I apologise. It's been a long day."

Her smile was kind. "I suppose it has- but everyone needs some time out of their daily lives- even you."

Gilbert chuckled. "Maybe. You do look lovely, by the way."

Penny beamed. "Thank you. All Andrew would say was that I didn't look that terrible."

This made him laugh. "If I'd had a sister, I most likely would have teased her like that too."

Penny was thoughtful. "It's funny, but I can't quite imagine you doing that, Gilbert. Our brother Stephen isn't like that either- he's far too serious. And Jackson is only eighteen." She gave a short sigh. "I've almost missed seeing him grow up," she said softly. "I do miss home at the holidays, especially."

Gilbert nodded, unable to think of anything to say. He knew from Andrew that she greatly missed the city, missed their family. He was casting about for a topic of conversation when he saw her smile.

"Have you noticed how many gentlemen are sitting out of the dance talking?"

Gilbert's look was confused. "Are they?"

She gave a little laugh. "Even Andrew is- although he seems well enough occupied for now." Gilbert turned to find his friend, and brief shock went through him to see Andrew sitting against the furthermost wall, talking animatedly with Anne herself. He saw Penny's chuckle and turned back, his mind busy. "He does hate to be on display- and probably thinks it will keep him off the dance floor for a spell."

Gilbert grinned good-naturedly, keeping time with the music with apparent ease. When the selection finally ended, Penny steered them over to where her brother sat, and as she greeted Anne the three of them began to talk. Gilbert had been struggling to keep his mind on the evening, and when he met Anne's eyes, inexplicably he felt as if her grey eyes saw straight through him. He looked down and cleared his throat before greeting her. Anne's greeting was quiet as well, although she seemed content. It was one of the few town outings he had seen her at, and he was puzzled at first to find her at a dance.

This question was answered when the head of the school committee announced that all funds from the supper that evening would go towards a new furnace and cloakroom for Anne's classroom. Gilbert stood nearby as the committee praised her efforts, and turned to see the smile on her face as she nodded in acknowledgement. He looked around, thinking absently that she had certainly won the hearts of the town.

The dance picked up again, and Gilbert spent a good deal of the evening talking with the menfolk, taking a few turns with ladies he was acquainted with, and then dancing with Penny again. In between times, he found himself silent, trying not to think about the family who were not in attendance that evening. He had wandered to the back of the room at one point and found himself near Anne, who had been cheerfully talking with two young girls; Gilbert judged them to be about fifteen or sixteen. He saw the amused look on her face when two young lads came to awkwardly offer their hands to the girls- he saw the way Anne nudged them to stand when both appeared too stunned to respond. When they left, he sat down in the chair next to her. To his consternation he noticed her studying him.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a frown, checking his tie. "It's not straight, is it?"

Anne chuckled. "It's perfectly alright, Gilbert. Don't be so suspicious." She paused then and looked back out to the people dancing. "It's lovely, tonight, isn't it?" When she received no answer, she gave him a candid look that caught his attention. "You don't need to sit here, you know. You know every mother is hoping for you to dance with their daughters tonight."

For a moment he thought she was mocking him until he followed her eye-line. To be sure, there in the corner was a group of older ladies watching him, and pointing him out to their neighbours. He blanched as he watched some young lady being told stand upright, and was turned by her mother to face him, and then looked back in horror at an Anne who couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry, Gilbert; I shouldn't tease. However, it is rather like sitting next to Mr Darcy at the Meryton Ball."

She watched the look of scorn that crossed Gilbert's face, somehow knowing it wasn't meant for her. He did smile, though.

"Well, I'm happy to sit this one out." He was silent for a time, and his hands were in his pockets as he looked at her surreptitiously. She was wearing a black dress as usual, in amongst the brightly dressed girls spinning around the room. He didn't know what made him do it- he _never_ did this- but found himself talking now.

"I- I lost a patient today," he said slowly.

She turned to him, her eyes sad. "Oh, Gil, I'm so sorry."

He cleared his throat, his eyes on the far wall. "A father with three young children. I really thought he was going to make it. He had a chest infection- and I thought we'd won." Anne watched him in a wordless sympathy, and for just a moment, her hand rested on his sleeve. He turned to give her a sober smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good company right now."

Anne looked away thoughtfully. "I understand. It's hard to feel that life can continue on as normal like this- and yet it does. It's a blessing and a curse, I suppose. Gilbert, you would have done everything that you could."

She saw him scowl then. " _How_? How do you know I didn't just miss something this time?"

Anne sighed, her voice gentle. "You know that mistakes happen to everyone, Gil. But I know that no one cares like you do. You wouldn't be so hard on yourself if you didn't. That's what matters."

He gave a wry chuckle, his eyes guarded. "Well, you know me; I would settle for a hundred percent success rate if I could."

The two of them sat in silence for some time, screened by a group of gentlemen who were crowded around the food tables. Anne looked at him curiously.

"What do you love best about being a doctor?"

Gilbert's gaze swung to hers, and Anne saw the way his brown head lifted slightly. "I love a lot of it. Babies, definitely," he began, with a slight smile. "Did you know there are now three Gilberts crawling around Four Winds?"

"And you always said no one would name a child after you!"

He chuckled. "I didn't expect than anyone would." He looked out on the dance, his gaze softening. "I love knowing I'm where I'm supposed to be. I like going into a home and having an answer to something that causes pain and sickness. You know, Jeremy used to torment me about doing operations under a gas light on a kitchen table- and I've actually had to do it."

Anne's eyes warmed at the look on his face. He ruffled his normally tidy hair up in a way that made her smile, and he began to talk more. "It was terrifying to not have any assistance- but in some cases, the patient would have died by the time I got help. It's why I came here- why should only those who live in the cities have good medical care?"

She nodded. "That's wonderful, Gilbert." She seemed to be thinking then, and he waited. "I suppose those good things make up for days like this."

His head tipped back to study the high ceilings, and he sighed. "No- and yes. It's just a part of it all, I guess. For every few people I can help there seems to be someone I can't- it's why I read every medical journal and textbook I can get my hands on. New advances, techniques- did you know there was something called trephining?" he asked, his eyes becoming animated. "Removing a section of bone from the skull- taking away the pressure that has been placed on the brain after an injury."

Anne watched him curiously. "What effect would that have?"

Gilbert turned to her then, his hands moving to demonstrate. "There was a fellow I met soon after I got here- someone who was mentally impaired after a brain injury, had forgotten who he was, in fact. I suspected it would work, and recommended the operation- and Anne, it worked. He'd been living a half life here- he was able to go home to his family almost fully restored, with his full faculties."

Anne smiled to see him so enthusiastic. "That's wonderful."

After a few minutes, Gilbert turned to look at her. He studied her thoughtful expression and sighed. Sometimes he could almost forget- sometimes he saw her as the friend he had once known. At other times he would see the change in her, and the things that had driven them apart formed a chasm between them. Where he sat at that point was a mystery- and it seemed that he'd never really understood _her_. He cast around to find something to talk about.

"Are you going home for Christmas?"

Anne nodded, her eyes following the moving dancers absently. "Yes. I'm leaving on Christmas Eve, and I'll be back after New Year."

"Are you looking forward to it?" he pressed and flinched at the shadow that crossed her face.

"It will be- lovely to see Diana and Fred and the children again."

Gilbert could see her walls going up again, and almost groaned at his lack of tact. How _could_ she be looking forward to it? This was her first Christmas alone. A shard of pain seemed to hit him all at once, staring at the red-headed girl he had once known- dressed in black, her grey eyes filled with hurt. She didn't have a makeshift family here, all she had was a housekeeper. Without thinking, he found himself blurting- "Would you like to dance?"

He looked up to see delicate auburn eyebrows raised at him, and a spark deep within her grey eyes that meant danger ahead. He fought back the nervous laugh that threatened and drew in a breath. "I swear I'm not teasing. It's the Christmas ball- it's a slow song- and who is safer than a doctor to dance with?"

To his relief, she appeared to calm, although Anne's eyes remained worried. "Gil, I don't know-"

Strangely, it was the anxious look that decided him. "Come on, yes you do. You always loved to dance- and we can go slowly. I won't let you get hurt." He stood up then, taking her hands in his own. With more confidence than he felt, he pulled her to her feet and slipped his arm around her waist, and looked down to see enormous grey eyes close to his own. In order to control the conflicting emotions inside, he directed her quietly.

"Put your arm on my shoulder- that's right- and I'm afraid you'll have to lean on me a bit more to keep yourself steady."

He could feel her shaking in his arms and waited until she was steady to move. Her hand was on his shoulder with an almost painful grip, and he tried to smile. "See? Just like falling off a log."

To this, she chuckled, distracted from the fact that they had just taken their first step. Slowly he moved them, his mind suddenly filling with old memories.

* * *

 _"But Gil, I can't see where I'm going!" she had hissed crossly, to which he rolled his eyes._

 _"Anne, you're not meant to when we're dancing! A woman is supposed to let a man lead!"_

 _He watched sigh in exasperation, and then look down at their feet. "I- don't know how."_

 _"Just keep your eyes on me, Carrots," he teased_ , _and grinned at her indignant huff. "And come on, trust me."_

 _And the sixteen-year-old girl suddenly looked up at the nineteen-year-old boy, both of them realising that they were closer than they had ever been._

* * *

She was beginning to relax when he took a larger step than before, and he felt the way she caught her breath, her eyes frightened.

"Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, suddenly flushing. "I- I just haven't done this in awhile."

Something in his heart clenched as he felt her stumble ever so slightly, and he pulled her closer and slowed his step down. "Well, you're doing fine." He watched her eyes dart nervously around the room. "What is it?"

"I don't know what everyone will think of me doing this-"

He gave her an amused look, wanting to calm her. "It's the town doctor dancing with the town schoolteacher, Anne. It's no more interesting than the butcher waltzing off with the blacksmith." He grinned as she began to laugh, and steadied her with his arm around her waist as they turned slowly.

* * *

 _"Gil, slow down," she had exclaimed breathlessly, her cheeks bright red._

 _"You wanted to do this," he retorted. "I told you it was fast, and I'm trying to stop us from getting trampled."_

 _To his surprise, her eyes narrowed, and before he could say anything, she had yanked him from the line out of the nearby front doors of the hall, and out into the starlit night._

 _"Does this mean you forfeit?" he asked when he had caught his breath, watching the girl breathing deeply of the night air, her chest rising and falling in a way that made his heart almost stop. Her hands were on her waist then, and he felt a frisson of heat go through his body as one of her blue puffed sleeves slipped on her shoulder, revealing the ivory strap of her chemise._

 _"Never, Mr Blythe," she said, her nose in the air. "Any dance, anytime."_

* * *

Taking care to not move suddenly, he kept his eyes on her face. The rest of the room was forgotten as the pair moved gently on the floor, and neither of them noticed the puzzled looks from bystanders or the curious look on Penny Winston's face. Gilbert carefully supported Anne as they came to a stop with the music, and he was still holding her in his arms when one last memory flooded his mind. He remembered the coldness in her grey eyes, the shock that had gone through his system at her words.

 _"I'm terribly sorry, Gilbert, my dance card appears to be full."_

He stiffened, and his heart was pounding as he walked her the short distance to her chair. Pushing down the old feelings of hurt and anger that he had felt, he stood awkwardly near her as she sat down. She could not quite raise her eyes to his, and her cheeks were pink.

"Thank you, Gilbert. I didn't think I would ever do that again, to be honest."

He tried to shake off the memory and cleared his throat. "It was my pleasure." He paused then, as his guarded hazel eyes suddenly met hers- and the words seemed to well up without effort. "All I wanted was one last dance with you."

Anne didn't flinch from his gaze, although she paled, and a grief that startled him was in her expression. She didn't need him to tell her what he had meant and blinked away the tears that formed. Hoping he could read the truth in her eyes now, she answered him in a low voice. "I always regretted that you didn't have it."

When the silence grew long, and she saw the discomfort on his face, Anne looked behind him to see the couple she had arrived with approaching.

"Thank you, Gilbert. My ride is preparing to leave, and I must go. And I believe Andrew and Penny are waiting for you." Gilbert turned in shock to see a hesitant Penny standing a short distance away. Anne's smile to her was kind, and she took her stick in one hand as the brother and sister approached, and she nodded gratefully to her next door neighbours.

"Mr Winston, Miss Winston. I must be heading off now- Susan tends to worry if I am out too late."

Penny responded in kind, and Andrew leant across to shake the elderly Mr Morton's hand, who stood ready to assist Anne. His kind faced wife handed Anne her wraps and she turned to nod at the group with a smile. She looked to Gilbert then, her eyes meeting his now. "Thank you, Doctor Blythe. I wish you all a Merry Christmas."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a thankful Anne closed and locked the door behind her. She leant against it with a big sigh that brought Susan to the entryway, her tea towel still in hand.

"Anne? Is everything alright?" she asked briskly.

Anne pulled the grey fur trimmed hat from her head, with a quirked smile. "Perfectly so, Susan dear. However, there are nights when it is a pleasure to leave behind the crowds. Is there any chance that you would have a cup of tea available?"

Within a short time, Anne was tucked up safely in her bed, and Susan had come into her room with a tray for them, staying to hear the gossip of the evening- who had been there, what they had worn, and who had danced with whom. After a cozy chat and some quiet laughter together, Anne blew out her lamp, relaxing back on her pillows with a sigh.

In the stillness of the night then, she remembered with a bittersweet pang how it had felt to be held by him- and she remembered the girl who had taken it for granted too. She closed her eyes in the darkness, for a brief moment allowing herself to forget about Penny, to forget about the eight years that had separated them. To remember the curve of his jaw, the way his generous mouth twisted into a smile at times- the clean, masculine scent of him, and the strength in his arms as he supported her. A most precious tear fell then, one that was all the gratitude that she had felt since he had come to her house so many weeks ago. He was acting out of pity, she knew- and yet it didn't sting as it should. For the girl who had once not known how to receive anything at his hand, she curled up on her pillow now and could only feel gratitude for one last dance with Gilbert Blythe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When Anne got off the train at Carmody, she was engulfed immediately by Diana's embrace. The older children capered around Anne ecstatically, while Fred handed young Jack to his mother with a grin, and went to collect Anne's bags. When Diana had the chance to look at Anne, she sighed in relief. She had filled out a little and appeared well. Within minutes the family had made their way to the buggy, Anne trying to answer questions from everyone at the same time.

When they arrived at the farm, Diana led her friend into the spare room seeing with pleasure Anne's surprise at the new wallpaper, the delicate cherry blossoms across a pale yellow background.

"Di, it's lovely! I couldn't picture it from your letters, and the colours are wonderful."

Diana beamed, watching Anne remove her hat and coat. "I thought you would like it." She shook her head at the five-year-old Anne Cordelia, who was peeking into Anne's luggage. "Run along now, Miss, Aunt Anne needs to freshen up after her trip."

Anne laughed then at the disgruntled look on the child's face as she went. "She looks as you used to when your mother would insist you put your books down!"

Diana chuckled. "I suppose so. You, darling, are looking very well- Four Winds must agree with you."

Anne sat down on the bed with a sigh. "It's lovely, Di. The townsfolk are friendly, and Susan is wonderful- she nags me about eating almost as much as you do, dearest."

"And a good thing too!" Diana retorted. "You look so much better than you did in the summer."

"Well, I have excellent care," Anne replied lightly. There was a long silence then, and she looked over to see the awkward look on her friend's face and chuckled. "Diana darling, whatever it is, just ask me."

Diana blushed at being read so easily. "I just wondered how it is with Gilbert Blythe being in the Glen as well."

Anne was calm. "I don't really see him much. Understandably, he's very busy."

Diana seemed to be swelling with impatience. "You told me that you hurt yourself. Did you have to call him? I assume there is no other doctor there?"

"No, there isn't," Anne said slowly. "He- well, I had to see him as the doctor," she finished in a rush, trying to ignore Diana's startled gasp.

"Anne, oh my goodness, was it terribly awkward?"

"Yes- and no- and then yes again."

Diana began to laugh at the droll look on Anne's face. "Dearest, I'm sorry, but that would have been so interesting to witness."

"Oh, yes, _wonderfully_ fascinating," she said dryly and hesitated. "He is an exceptional doctor though."

"Well, I would expect no less. And?"

"And what, Di?"

Diana's look was bewildered. "And did he apologise? Did he explain what happened after he was ill?"

She stopped, seeing Anne suddenly pale. "No, Di. And he shouldn't. It's best that we forget what happened."

Her black eyes narrowed. "Anne, you were utterly crushed by what he said to you-"

At this Anne stood quickly and moved to the window, her shaking hands coming up in defense. " _No_ , Diana. I've had to put that behind me- and by his behaviour, he seems to want to forget about it as well. He's still who he was, Di. He's gentlemanly, even kind to me. That has to be enough."

Diana exhaled. "But Anne, he never married- he never came back here. Surely that must tell you something."

"There's a girl in Four Winds," Anne said in a soft voice. "She is lovely and kind, and beautiful. He genuinely cares for her." Diana's face fell, and she watched Anne carefully. "I'm alright, Di. He deserves to be happy." Diana stood then, coming to wrap her arms around Anne. For just a moment she felt her respond, and then as she had expected, Anne stepped back to smile at her. Diana's heart clenched, knowing that Anne's hurts were greater than she would admit. She made herself smile in response, and took her beloved friend's arm.

"Well, darling, Fred is coming in for tea in a minute, so freshen up and come and join us. I made your favourite muffins, and the children were barely able to sleep last night, knowing that you were coming."

"And there's the blessing of being so loved, Di," Anne said brightly, and for just a moment Diana saw the friend she had run through the forests and fields with. She smiled and crossed to the door to the spare room that she could only consider Anne's now.

* * *

Christmas day dawned without snow, much to the disappointment of the children. Anne looked out her bedroom window on the chill grey fields and then turned to get dressed with a sigh. In a way, it helped that she hadn't been at Green Gables last year for Christmas- although Green Gables did its very best to come to her. Marilla and Rachel had both come to the hospital, the latter sitting by Anne's bedside and telling her all of the gossip that Avonlea could afford. The two women had stayed with Aunt Kate and Aunt Chatty whilst they were in Summerside, and Anne had smiled weakly to see all of the women together in her hospital room. She was able to sit up for short periods of time now, although quickly became dizzy after lying down for so long. The staff had allowed her some time to see her loved ones, however, it only seemed a moment before the Nurse Agathe decreed that Anne needed to rest again. It was Marilla, stern, stoic Marilla who had cried, and hurt tore through Anne's pain-clouded mind at being unable to help her.

Anne paused, her hand steadying herself on the windowsill, carefully shutting down the thought of Marilla. For today that needed to stay in the background.

The service that day was a lovely one, and Anne had been surprised by how many people came to greet her. Many of her old students were there, and she couldn't repress a chuckle at the pot belly that a condescending Charles P. Sloane Esquire now sported, his harried little wife sweeping three boys who could have been Charlie at one, three and four. She met Diana's face over his shoulder with a mute plea, and Diana was swift to apologise to Charlie, ushering Anne out of the church doors before he could blink his mournful blue eyes. The peal of laughter that came back to him halted his progress for a puzzled moment, and then he gave a Sloanish shrug. Anne Shirley had always been far too flighty. He really should have a word with Wright about the influence she most likely had on his wife…

* * *

Orchard Slope was lavishly decorated for the holidays, and Anne was welcomed warmly by Diana's parents. Within a short time, she was ensconced on a sofa reading stories to the children while Diana, Minnie May and her mother laid the table for dinner. Minnie May had grown into a beautiful young lady, and young Fred told Anne with disgust that he had actually seen her take a young fellow's hand at church last week. Anne kept her laugh to herself, sympathising with the boy who just didn't like change- and remembering a girl who had once been so much the same. She snatched him close for a cuddle that made his six-year-old ears redden, and released him only when he protested that men didn't hug.

Privately, Diana had told Anne that Minnie May's young gentleman was a clerk in the lawyer's office in Carmody, and was someone her father and mother approved of- not that they would allow Minnie May to know that yet. She also had a suspicion that their determination to not allow a daughter of theirs to marry until they were twenty-one might not hold up against Minnie May's pleading, brown eyes- something Diana felt quite reasonably put out about.

After a day in which Anne had delighted in with Diana's family, she had nevertheless been relieved to spend Christmas evening as she wished, at home in solitude. Fred, who had grown quite used to Anne's presence in his house had even teased her a little, saying that Anne needed to be sure to pay his side of the family due attention the next time she was in Avonlea. When the family arrived home from the Wrights, it was to a blissfully warm house, a neat kitchen and a tray of Marilla's gingerbread biscuits, accompanied by a note of thanks from Anne who had gone to bed. When Diana checked on her she was sound asleep, and she was able to make her way to her own bedroom to a grinning Fred, who had safely tucked in the three children and was now waiting to claim his wife's full attention.

* * *

As the evening train whistled, Gilbert Blythe stepped off at Carmody late on Christmas Eve to greet his grinning father, who immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

"You couldn't give your mother more than a day's warning?" he father said jovially.

Gilbert chuckled. "Patients don't ask my permission to be sick, Dad. I told you I'd try, and I was lucky- everyone's stable right now. Bruce Parker's in Lowbridge, his family are there for the holidays. He'll cover any emergencies, so I can stay till Thursday morning."

John Blythe slapped his son on the back. "Two days! I'll have to find some work for you to do."

Gilbert snorted. "If you can guarantee me that I won't be woken up through the night by the phone, then you can make me do anything you like."

Sonia Blythe was a sight to be seen, flying around the house to prepare for the next day. In vain Gilbert tried to tell her that his bedroom was just fine, however, she was in and out several times stoking the fire, carrying a jug of water in and dusting off the mantelpiece unnecessarily, pausing to pull him into a warm hug each time. Gilbert submitted in the end to her fussing, seeing with some shame how thrilled she was to finally have him at home. He wouldn't stay away any longer, he promised himself- he would do better.

His mother had twittered anxiously the next morning about Gilbert still being asleep when they left for church- John had intervened, claiming that _here_ at least he could get a full nights sleep- he wasn't going to wake him. Sonia had reluctantly gone, after leaving multiple notes around the house giving him instructions that were completely unnecessary, as it was almost eleven when Gilbert finally arose. When she arrived home she hustled him into a hot bath, insisting that he be made respectable for the rest of the family.

The Blythes spent Christmas with the Fletchers next door, and a beaming Gilbert came around the table to hug his great Aunt Katherine, Uncle David's widow. She sat him beside her and proceeded to ask him all about his practice. A doctor's wife for many years, she talked with him about the people he had seen, chronic cases and local knowledge that would prove useful. Gilbert smiled at the obvious love she had for the Glen and felt a deep satisfaction that he was continuing the work his Uncle had started.

That day, Anne was never mentioned- although she was rarely far from his thoughts. Back in his home, he seemed to see her everywhere- the table she would work at with him while they were teaching, the woods and trees around the Blythe Farm that they had explored. Anne had often commented on the sign that sat above his parent's front door- claiming that _Pinewood_ was no name for a farm known for its apples, potatoes and barley. Gilbert had taken her into the dark forest that backed onto the house, and even amongst the pine needles and cloister-like dimness of the trees, she had insisted that _Applewood_ was far more appropriate. As he strode through trees with his hands deep in his pockets, Gilbert had to acknowledge that it was the real reason he found it difficult to return- Avonlea had always seemed to belong to the two of them.

Gilbert spent Christmas night sitting up late with his parents talking, catching up on all that had happened in his absence. People had come and gone, change had slowly crept into his town. He had been grateful when the phone had been put in at the farm- to hear his parents' voices in Montreal had made him unexpectedly emotional, even whilst attempting to convince his mother that it was not necessary to shout into the receiver.

Gilbert was awoken rudely on Boxing day by the sound of the same telephone, and without thinking threw himself out of bed. He ran downstairs still pulling on his shirt, his tie flying behind him and already mentally trying to place his bag- only to find that the call was not for the farm, and he wasn't in Four Winds. His bemused father sat at the breakfast table, his cup halfway to his mouth, and his mother looked up from her pancakes. "Oh, you're up, dear. Couldn't you have dressed in your room?"

Gilbert began to laugh sheepishly, as he realised how finely attuned to the telephone he had become. "Sorry, I hear a telephone, and I assume it's time to go- you know, someone dying or being born."

John grinned. "Well, it's a good way to get you out of bed at least. Go back and finish the job, won't you?"

Gilbert chuckled and returned to his room to finish dressing properly, and came back downstairs to relax over a leisurely breakfast with his parents.

* * *

Diana opened the door after lunch to see Gilbert Blythe standing on her doorstep once again. Almost as surprised as last time, she somehow managed to find her voice.

"Gilbert! Oh- Fred is in the shed, I'll call him- we were about to have tea- I mean, please, do come in."

Remembering his earlier visit, Gilbert was cautious as he stepped inside the room, and turned to meet Fred himself. Fred reached out to shake his hand, his glance open.

"Gil! We're making a habit of this. Are you staying for tea?" he asked, glancing at his wife. She had nodded, as Gilbert looked uncomfortable.

"Only if it isn't an imposition."

She wiped her hands capably on her lace trimmed apron and shook her head. "Nonsense. Come into the sitting room."

Fred showed him through, and out of sight Diana rested against her kitchen counter for a brief moment, her eyes unsure. She'd only spoken to Mrs Blythe a week ago, who had said nothing of any intended visit. Diana was not overly suspicious- and it could be that Gilbert wished to make up for not coming sooner. However, she looked towards Anne's bedroom door with a thoughtful look. He hadn't been here until _she_ was.

Curious.

When she carried a full tray in, Diana's face was calm. She saw him looking at the three cups, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Isn't Anne- I thought- I understood Anne was staying here with you."

Diana's face was hidden as she poured the tea, however her eyes found Fred's in silent communication.

Fred cleared his throat slightly. "She wanted to go home for the afternoon."

Gilbert almost dropped the cake fork in his hand. "Where?"

Diana sat on the sofa beside her husband and spoke quietly. "Green Gables, Gilbert."

He put the plate down, his brow lowered. "But it's _empty_ -"

"No, it's not. The furniture is still there."

Gilbert stood up then, agitated. "Di, you let her go back there by herself?"

Fred sighed. "Hold on now, Gil, she's a grown woman. She said she wanted to go, so I took her. I saw her inside, lit a fire for her. She's safe."

Gilbert drew in a breath that seemed painful, sitting down again. "Diana, has she talked to you at all about Marilla's death?"

Diana tensed, and there was an edge to her voice. "No. If she doesn't wish to talk, then I don't force her- and I really don't see why this is your concern, Gilbert."

"I _am_ concerned- I'm _very_ concerned," he said heatedly. "This kind of silence isn't good for her-"

Fred could see the discussion heading in the same direction the last one had, and intervened. "Come on, Gilbert, a lot has changed-"

"Not that much, it hasn't," he shot back.

Diana saw the look of misery on his face and was beginning to understand how difficult this was for him. She drew in a calming breath. "Gilbert, I don't pretend to understand what this is like for you. She's not who you remember. I told you last time that she's not the same. She closed off people to protect herself- and I think you can see how easily she would do that to me if she felt pressured."

Gilbert saw the vulnerable look on her face and swallowed. "She'd never shut you out, Di."

Fred gave a faintly exasperated sigh. "Look, can I interrupt the two of you here?" Diana turned to her husband in some surprise, who took her hand in his. "Di's right. Things aren't the same- even I can see that." He studied his old friend. "Gil, do you remember that young deer that got caught in the fence when we were kids?" he asked, to be met with the same blank look from both Gilbert and Diana. "Just humour me."

Gilbert shrugged. "Of course- it got chased there by your father's dogs."

"It was so scared that it tried to run from us," he said flatly. "And it got stuck even worse when we approached it. Anne looks like she's doing well most of the time- and I admit, I could almost believe it at times. But I've seen that same look in her eyes- she's trapped and running scared."

Diana folded her arms, a tear falling down her cheek. "So you can see, Gilbert, why I won't push her."

A grief-stricken Gilbert was silent for long minutes. "I don't want to see her like this."

"It is going to get better," Diana said, her voice quiet. "She's trying so hard-"

Gilbert stood up suddenly. "I'm going over there now."

" _No_ \- you can't simply force her to start talking-"

"I know that," he said, agitated. "But just because you're right about it, that doesn't mean that I'm wrong. It can't keep building in her like this. And maybe when we were friends I should have let her do things at her own pace more often- I don't know. But I know that there were things back then that she told me that she didn't tell you- I think she needed you to be a safe place. You can still be that." He rubbed his face with a shaking hand. "Look, if she doesn't want me there, I'll go."

Diana looked to Fred, who lifted his shoulders. "I think he might be right."

She got to her feet then, and stared at him. "Why are you doing this, Gilbert?" she asked slowly. "The two of you aren't what you used to be- and you know that. So why are you pursuing this?"

He took up the winter coat that lay over his chair, his face set. "Because I can't see her hurting this much without doing something about it. I think you're right that you can't do it. But I might still be able to."

Fred stood then, and walked him out to the front door, and Gilbert sighed. "Fred, I seem to keep doing this to you both-"

Fred only shook his head. "Just go. If she wants to stay, I'll come when she calls me."

Gilbert hesitated. "Alright. And I'm sorry-"

Fred folded his arms and looked at him frankly. "Gil, Di just wants to protect her. And you know this was never about us picking sides-"

"I know." He looked at his childhood friend regretfully. "It was my decision to stay away for so long- I did it to myself."

Fred clapped him on the back. "Look, if she's ready, come back here and have tea properly with us."

Gilbert nodded, and turned to walk down the lane.

* * *

Two miles away, tucked away from the road and out of sight of everyone, Anne sat in the Green Gables kitchen, immobilised and silent. She'd wanted to come- and yet as Fred had pulled the buggy up the lane, she had almost asked him to turn around.

She had made herself pull the key from her purse, made herself walk through the door. Fred had been so kind, and she had thanked him and waved goodbye, almost afraid to turn around to the empty room. Everything looked as it had three months ago- except for a fine layer of dust that covered everything. A dust that would never have been allowed to rest, if Marilla was alive.

Anne shivered, despite the fire that was rapidly gaining warmth. She pulled off her gloves and heavy coat, methodically moving to light the lamp that Diana had sent with her. There was a package of tea as well, however Anne could swallow nothing.

She sat down on the rocking chair that had been Marilla's, her chest tight. All through the previous day, she had pictured Green Gables empty and cold- and the awareness was like a blot on the landscape. Even now, pain-filled eyes darted around, seeing ghosts of herself, of the life that had once kept the old house busy. She could see Matthew sitting in the corner with his pipe, Marilla beating rugs on the veranda. Mrs Lynde following her around the house as she packed to go to Redmond, and the twins running through the house for the brief year that they had lived there. How quiet the house had been when their uncle came for them.

After almost an hour, she rose from the chair, her face set. There were no ghosts, only an old house that was deserted. She moved through the rooms downstairs mechanically, the white sheets that lay over the horsehair furniture in the parlour making the room seem oddly featureless. It had been a relief to leave here in September- she could admit that now. The happy childhood she had passed here was shadowed by other memories now- the memory of the homecoming when only a silent Mrs Lynde was there to welcome her. Marilla's body lying in state in the parlour, and Anne almost making herself ill from keeping her emotions so tightly reined in. Diana's gentleness, Mrs Barry downstairs issuing instructions to the undertaker. And the desperate scream that wanted to rise up in her throat, kept at bay only by the mechanical way she had held herself- the same cry that had come from her when she awoke in hospital to a pain that she had never before known.

She moved slowly back to the kitchen and dropped into the chair again, her heart beating hard against her ribs. The light in the kitchen now seemed so bright, and Anne breathed deeply, willing herself to be steady.

 _Please, let me stay like this- let me only stay frozen-_

* * *

When Gilbert pulled up at Green Gables, he climbed from the buggy now feeling slightly ill. He'd told his parents he was calling on the Wrights- they had known that Anne would be there as well. And now he was on some fool's errand, most likely unwanted. He stopped at the gate and looked at the house, with its fading shutters, and the shingle that had fallen from the roof, berating himself. When had she ever wanted his help? What arrogance was it in him that assumed that she somehow _needed_ him, that he could help her now? Diana was right- there wasn't anything he could do to make it better, he would only make it worse. As he pushed through the gate, he decided. He'd ask if she wanted to go back to Diana's house, they could sit and have tea. Sit and ignore the distance between them, the pain that he only assumed was still inside of her.

Gilbert forced himself to walk up the porch steps, trying to ignore the memories of summers spent out in the sunshine, she with a book in her lap and flowers in her hair, him with a leg draped over the arm of the chair, arguing about the correct way to punctuate a sentence. When there was no answer to his knock, he turned the handle.

As he stepped inside he halted, finally seeing her sitting in the old rocking chair. Her face was an icy white that made him shudder, and the grey eyes that slowly turned to him frightened him. She barely flinched at his presence, and he had to shake off the horror of seeing her like this.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

Gilbert walked to her chair and squatted down by her side. His voice was gentle. "I'm here for Christmas. I go back tomorrow. Are you alright?"

He watched her blink confusedly. "Oh. I'll- I'll make you some tea."

He shook his head. "I don't need tea," he said carefully. "Anne, why did you come here? Did you want to see something?"

She fumbled around for her walking stick, which he quickly grabbed for her, and she pushed off the chair blindly. "No- no, I just- I need to go-" Gilbert caught her as she stumbled, and she turned terrified eyes to his. His heart sank at the look Fred had described, and suddenly he knew what she was running from. He bent down to make sure that she heard him.

"Anne?" he said softly. "You need to let yourself grieve for Marilla."

The panicked look on her face pierced him- a look he hadn't seen since that miserable day in the orchard. "No, _please_ , no, Gil-" she pleaded, and his heart broke.

"She's gone- but you're still here. You can't follow her, Anne."

For one second she turned tear-filled eyes to his, and with a cry that seemed to come from her very heart, Gilbert caught her as she fell to the floor, breaking into sobs that she had been holding back since the day that Marilla had died. It would be some time before she would realise that he was holding her in his arms while she cried, sitting on the floor beside her with one hand stroking her soft, red hair.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

As the afternoon light began to fill the kitchen at Green Gables, Gilbert tried to stretch without waking the exhausted girl on his lap. After crying for longer than he had ever believed anyone could, he had been dumbfounded to realise that she had fallen asleep. He was relieved that she had- as she had cried, unbeknown to her, so had he. He needed some time himself- while she had slept, he had sat on the cold wooden floor with her, thinking.

A part of his heart felt dangerously vulnerable like this- but then it had ever since he first learned that Anne lived in the Glen. He was forced to admit that he'd never really processed the past either- and he wondered bleakly if he'd been as locked up inside as she was. Oh, he hadn't actually lost anyone, and his path had been comparatively without pain- except that he had lost _her_. In a way, he'd been grateful that she had been so changed- or it might have catapulted him straight back to his younger self, rather than the thirty-one-year-old man he was now.

He'd gone back to Redmond determined not to think of her again, to make the most of the opportunity that he had been given by throwing himself headlong into the challenges of medical school. He'd managed to startle his professors by his vigour so soon after typhoid- working harder, longer than any other student. The trouble was, that the pace had never really stopped.

Gilbert stared into the coals of the fire now, his hand unconsciously stroking her hair as she slept. Three years of studying, almost night and day in his final years. He and Jeremy had boarded the train for Montreal within a week of their graduation, and the two years there had gone like a watch in the night. He'd been at the hospital almost eighteen hours a day for the first year- it was only after the first year that he bothered to find an apartment of his own, choosing to live in the hospital accommodation. And it was meant to end there- he was meant to take over his uncle's practice, settle down and live the life that he'd spent so long preparing for.

He'd been busy, building up his practice, reassuring those who had worshipped Uncle Dave that he was well able to care for them. He'd had successes, and triumphs and challenges; and yet on the evenings when he wasn't called out, he had sat at home wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now.

As he sat holding Anne while she slept, he found himself asking what had happened to him- and how it was that her arrival had seemed to jolt him back to himself. Perhaps it was that she had changed so much- perhaps it made him see how much he had changed too. He'd been accused of being so serious, too- Penny's words at the dance had niggled away at him for days. Had he lost the part of himself that was light hearted? How did she and Andrew not know that part of him?

No, he'd been off balance for a while now, and it was time to find himself again. He looked down at Anne with a sigh. She would find herself too- and he would be happy for her when she did.

It was strange, the dynamic between them now. She seemed to manage it better that he did, something that irritated him vaguely. She'd been exactly what he should have expected- completely honest, and without artifice. He'd only seen her to talk to a handful of times, and yet she was always the calm one; _he_ was the idiot chasing ghosts, it seemed.

Well, he'd show her. He'd show her that he could let go of the past, to live and let live. She deserved his respect, and he deserved to move on at last.

At the sound of a branch falling on the porch roof, Anne shot up with a gasp, her eyes frightened. She didn't turn to him at first, and Gilbert swiftly pulled himself away, so that she wouldn't be embarrassed by where she had been resting. When she looked back at him, it was to see him sitting on the floor beside her, and her glance was uncertain.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

Her hand came up to brush a loose red curl behind one ear, and she drew in a deep breath. "Tired."

Gilbert stood up and bent to help her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you home to Diana."

To his surprise, Anne shook her head and moved slowly to the kitchen sofa. "Can I - can I just have a minute, first?"

He settled himself beside her, watching her carefully. "Anything you need."

Anne was silent for some minutes and then cleared her throat. "How did you know?" she asked.

Gilbert's look was gentle. "Call it an educated guess."

She sat forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and Gilbert studied her. The awful, dead look had gone from her eyes, and he shivered, remembering the way she had been when he arrived. In the stillness of the moment between them, he only just stopped himself from reaching to touch her again. He almost jumped in shock at his actions, shaking himself. No, he really needed to _not_ do that...

Anne was completely unaware of his reaction and rubbed her face tiredly. "I suppose- you learn to keep a good deal inside when pain is a constant," she said softly. "People can't support you forever. I'd put others through so much, and then when she- when Marilla died-" she swallowed and broke off. "She asked me to come home," she admitted, with tears in her eyes. "When I was discharged from the rehabilitation clinic, she asked me to return with her. And I- I said no." Gilbert's eyes showed his grief for her, and he sighed. "I couldn't, Gilbert. Financially she was struggling- I couldn't simply land myself on her doorstep, helpless, and unable to contribute in any way." Anne wiped her eyes, her voice broken. "She had done so much for me, she _saved_ me- and I couldn't bring myself to add to her burdens again. I told her that I would return to Summerside, that I was sure I could work again- she begged me to change my mind, but I was so _stubborn_. And then after I went back, I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I had resigned. At the beginning of May I decided that I would return here until the start of the new school year- and then I received the telegram to say that she had- that she died."

Unconsciously she pulled her feet onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her knees tightly. Now that the silence had been broken, the words seemed to flood out of her. "When I got here, I kept finding myself standing still in a busy house- I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I had only just learned to walk again two months earlier and I kept getting in the way- and people didn't know what to talk to me about, my injury, or about Marilla." She gave a hysterical chuckle. "I kept remembering when Marilla would scold me for that as a child- I would be daydreaming in the middle of the kitchen, and sometimes she would take me by the elbows and simply move me out of the way."

Gilbert smiled. "I remember her doing that to you when we taught together."

Anne was silent for a time, and she shut her eyes, her forehead creased in an attempt to hold back more tears. "Do you think she was angry with me?"

Gilbert swallowed, his eyes suddenly burning. "No- _no_ , Anne." He couldn't answer immediately, and floundered helplessly, before catching sight of an old prayer card on the mantelpiece. Slowly, he began to think out loud. "There was a Bible verse I remember from Sunday School- 'now we see through a glass, darkly'. Do you remember it?"

She rested her head against the back of the sofa. "Yes?"

He sighed, trying to understand the thoughts that had not ever fully taken shape. "'Now I know in part, but then I shall know, even as I am known,'" he quoted, slightly hesitant. He looked at her and caught his breath at the sight of her grey eyes- tipped back to watch him so _trustingly_. He shook his head to clear it and continued. "I think- I think that there are things that we don't know on this side of eternity- that we should understand, afterwards. I think- even if Marilla didn't understand before, that she understands now. She _knows_ you loved her- and she would know why you chose not to go."

Anne stifled a sob, her hands tightly clenched. "Do you really believe that, Gilbert?"

At that moment, he knew that it didn't matter what he thought- he put his arm around her like he hadn't for so long, and bent in close. "I _know_ it. You can't tell me that you can make it all the way to eternity without learning that- she _knew_ you Anne, and she loved you more than anything else in the world."

After a time Anne sat back to find her handkerchief, rolling her eyes at how wet it was. Gilbert held his own out, sensing that he had said enough for now. "I think you'd better keep that."

She wiped her eyes and gave an exhausted chuckle. Eventually, she turned to him, some calm restored. "Gilbert, why didn't you mention that you were coming back for Christmas as well?"

Gilbert lay his head back on the sofa, watching the light play across the ceiling. "I couldn't make any plans until I knew I could safely leave my patients- and that only happened on Christmas Eve. I sent the telegram to dad that morning, and he picked me up that night."

Anne gave a slight smile. "Your mother must have been beside herself- she would miss you terribly."

Gilbert nodded, and a regretful look was on his face. "You weren't the only one who should have come home sooner." He sighed and stood up slowly. He retrieved her stick and helped her to stand. "Anne, it's getting cold, and Diana will kill me if I don't get you home soon. And she's promised us both tea."

Anne's grey eyes faltered at the kindness on his face, and the warmth of his hand in hers. "Gilbert, why did you come for me? You know that you didn't have to."

She watched him look away, and study his shoes with great interest. To her surprise, his reply was painfully honest. "Because I thought you might need me."

Anne swallowed hard, and her eyes filled. "Thank you. I- I did." She worked then to clear the lump in her throat. "I thought if I could just keep myself from dwelling on it that I could survive- and I was too afraid to let myself feel it, I think. Does that make sense?"

Gilbert's breath caught at the memory. She had asked him that once before.

* * *

They had been sitting out beside Dryad's Bubble after the doctor had called around to see Marilla. Gilbert had been at Green Gables studying and had stayed to keep Anne company when he arrived. He remembered that her dress had been grey- and that a faded white rose was tucked into her collar.

"What was it like, Gil?" she had asked him suddenly. "When you were in Alberta all those years with your father?" He dropped the book in his hand to look at her. "Were you ever afraid?"

He had been a boy of almost nineteen then, still with some faint feeling that it wasn't masculine to admit fear- and especially to a girl he admired. He had hedged, before answering her honestly- "Yes." She turned the eyes that were enormous on her small face to him, and he sighed. "I was afraid I could lose Dad- and I was afraid I'd be alone when it happened."

"Because your mother was _here_ ," she said slowly. "But you weren't alone, he lived."

Gilbert's startled eyes looked to where the doctor's buggy sat at the top of the lane, and he thought that he understood.

"Anne, it's a migraine. Marilla will be fine, you know that."

He watched the frown that puckered her brow, and her voice was quiet. "We only just lost Matthew. And if anything happens to Marilla-"

"It won't, it _won't_ happen-" he'd said fiercely.

"-then I would be alone _again_ \- and it would be worse because this time I _know_ what it is to be loved. Does that make sense?"

Gilbert had turned her to face him. "You won't be. Not _ever_. Do you think Di or I would let that happen?"

A small tear had fallen, one that she would ordinarily have never let him see, and she had given a slight chuckle. "And what if Diana is married and gone, and you are off at a big, fancy college somewhere?"

He remembered that he had made her laugh by inexpertly mopping her face with his sleeve, and he'd knelt in front of her with a determined gleam in his eyes. "Di's husband will just have to deal with it- you know nothing would stand between the two of you. And I _promise_ , no matter where I am, I'll always come for you."

* * *

In the present, he looked into the same grey eyes and a strange peace settled over him. He'd made mistakes- they'd fought, they'd spent years as strangers. And yet somehow, against all odds, he'd eventually been able to keep his word. He said nothing about this though and turned to the fire, where only tiny embers glowed. "I think this will be out in a few minutes- it's going cold now. Are you ready to go?"

Anne nodded, and he carefully helped her on with her coat. Together they locked the door and walked down the stairs, and both halted, surprised. There before them, tiny snowflakes were falling, slowly covering the ground with a soothing blanket of white. Gilbert turned to look at her and smiled to see the dawning look of joy on her face.

"It came-" she said in wonder. "I hadn't thought I would see snow here this winter."

He offered her his arm with a grin. "Neither did I. It's nice to know that you and I can still be surprised by this place."

* * *

When Anne was ushered in through the Wright door, a hysterical Diana almost knocked her over as she pulled her into her arms, only stepping back to look at her face.

"Are you alright? I began to worry, I shouldn't have let you go like that-" she said, her voice shaky.

Anne smiled at her friend. "It's alright, I needed to go, Di."

Diana looked over Anne's shoulder to see Gilbert talking with a young, serious Fred and his father, and turned back to Anne, who shook her head. "It was fine, Di."

Diana turned toward the kitchen and began to lay the tray on the bench with four cups and saucers with quite unnecessary force. "Anne, so _help_ me; if he made you cry, I will hunt him down and he will _need_ a doctor by the time I'm through with him-"

To this Anne began to chuckle, and Diana paused her tirade to stare at her friend. Was it her imagination, or did Anne actually look a little better?

"Sometimes we all need a good cry. And I had a very good one. Rather _too_ good, in fact. Would you mind if I went to freshen up a little before tea, dearest?"

Diana shook her head as she watched Anne head down the hall, and pulled out the chocolate cake she had saved for the afternoon. She drew in a deep breath and regarded the back of Gilbert's head with a shrewd look. Surely things couldn't be what they appeared to be.

Throughout afternoon tea, Diana watched the pair curiously. The two of them were quiet, and Diana was surprised to see them so oddly formal with each other. Gilbert eventually relaxed enough to talk, and at last, she simply shook her head resolving to accept the strangeness. Anne was alright, and for now, that had to be enough.

When it was time for him to go, Gilbert stood to thank the couple for their hospitality. "Thank you, I should get home before mother starts to worry. I have to catch the early train tomorrow, and I have a fair idea she wants to see how much she can feed me between now and then."

He turned to Anne then and hesitated. What exactly did one say after an afternoon like they had experienced?

She gave him a slight smile of understanding. "Gilbert, thank you." There was something in her tone that made his eyes come up as well, and he saw in them a depth of feeling he had not expected. He swallowed.

"No problem. When do you go back?" he asked lightly.

Anne could feel the exhaustion in every bone of her body by now, and half-smiled. "I told Susan I would be home on the second."

It was happening again- the two of them forgot that anyone was nearby. One brown eyebrow went up. "I'll make sure she has plenty of bandages in stock by then." He saw the scowl on her face and grinned as he stepped away from her. He picked up his coat to follow Fred and Diana, turning to meet Anne's eyes once more from the doorway.

"So I'll see you back home?" he asked lightly.

Anne tried to ignore the way Diana's jaw dropped, and she nodded, her cheeks flushing. "I'll see you back home. Travel safely, Gil."

* * *

Later that night, after Diana had seen her children to bed and Fred was snoozing in the armchair, she knocked on the door of Anne's room.

"Come in."

Diana came in to see Anne sitting up in bed, her long hair in a braid, and in her nightgown. Diana had chased her through a hot bath earlier, and a very thankful Anne had gone to bed soon afterwards. She sat down on the side of the bed, her look watchful. Anne smiled at her, her face full of regret. "I'm sorry to make you worry so, Di."

Diana kicked off her shoes and settled herself on the bed beside Anne, making her chuckle. "I _won't_ worry, if you tell me what's going on."

Anne sighed. "It's exactly what it appears to be-"

"You mean that I can't tell what's up and what's down with you two?"

"Yes, that's it," Anne said pragmatically, and both girls laughed. Anne lay back against her pillows, studying the lamplight. "I don't know, Di. We're not friends- he's made that quite clear." Diana snorted at that, and Anne chuckled. "I don't know- it's like we are _something_ underneath all of this rubble- and you saw what he was like- no one could be kinder. I don't know if it's pity, or that he feels he owes me something now-"

Diana sighed and looked over at Anne. "Because of what he said to you when he saw you for the first time?" She saw Anne's cheeks turn pale, and reached out to take her hand in her own plump one. "Anne, Gilbert Blythe hasn't stepped foot in Avonlea properly in six years. He comes and goes from Pinewood if he comes, and that's all. But only hours after he saw you and said whatever tactless, _brainless_ thing that he did- and no, he didn't tell me what- he hopped a train the next morning to come back here to find out what happened."

Anne sat up quickly. "Di, he never told me that-"

"I should think not," Diana said cheerfully. "I sent him off with a flea in his ear, and I can only assume his parents must have as well, since he came to me next."

Anne covered her face with a groan. "Di, tell me that's not why he came to see me-"

Diana grinned. "No, darling. I'm fairly sure he was going to anyway. He was pretty miserable after whatever he did."

Anne sighed. "Well, he wasn't happy to see me in Four Winds, to put it mildly. Now, I think it just doesn't matter that I'm there. He talks to me pleasantly, courteously, and sometimes it's how it used to be. And then something happens and it's uncomfortable again."

Diana stayed silent, not wanting to say more than she should. "Well, if he treats you with respect from now on, that's more than enough for me, dearest. Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, and she rested her head for a moment against Diana's shoulder. "Oh, Diana. Can you wake me up when we're sixteen again?"

Diana chuckled, kissing the top of Anne's red head. "No, but I'll let you get some sleep. It's been a big day." She paused, and continued slowly. "Maybe one day the two of you can be friends again."

Anne's smile was sad, and she shook her head. "Perhaps this way is better, Di. I don't think that I could lose him again."

* * *

Gilbert's father and mother stood at the Carmody station the next morning, his mother shivering slightly in the early morning fog. The two of him would be coming to see him in just a few months, and Gilbert promised that he would try to return soon as well. Eventually John insisted on bundling his wife up to take her home, and Gilbert watched them go with a thankful heart. He was glad he'd come- glad to ease their minds, to begin to rebuild the connection to his home again. As he looked at the wagon roll away, he sighed. No, this time away had been right- he'd been exactly where he needed to be.

He had just placed his bag down and was feeling in his pockets for his ticket, when a sharp voice made him flinch.

"Well, if it isn't Gilbert Blythe!" Josie Pye said sweetly as she stepped up to him. "I thought from what your parents said, that you had no intention of returning home anytime soon."

Gilbert gritted his teeth and gave an artificial smile. "Josie."

"You needn't bother charming me again, Gilbert, after all, I am a married woman now. Didn't you know?"

He caught the smug expression on her face and nodded without interest. "Congratulations."

Josie tossed her head, giving her yellow flounces a shake. "Indeed. I'm collecting him from the station now, in fact- he was just up in Charlottetown seeing his mother. He's very devoted."

Gilbert checked his watch surreptitiously, hoping that for once the train was on time. "That's- lovely."

"I think you must be one of the few unmarried people from our class, Gilbert. I suppose being a doctor means that you're too busy to find anyone. I would so hate to be one of the only ones left behind- well, apart from _Anne_ \- but then she's perennially single, isn't she?"

Gilbert's fist was closed around his pocketbook, and he willed himself to not react. He'd been through this before, she was just trying to get a rise out of him. Sooner or later, she always started on Anne.

"She's quite infirm now, isn't she?" she said, and he felt sick at the malicious glee in her voice. "She did always walk with her head held higher than everyone else- it's quite ironic that she can hardly walk at all, now. How fortunate that you never got landed with her."

As the bile rose in Gilbert's throat he suddenly turned on her, making her freeze at his odd demeanor. In the silence that followed, she looked at him uncertainly.

"Josie-" he said started, in a deceptively quiet voice.

"That's _Mrs Bourke,_ to you, Gilbert."

Gilbert's jaw clenched, and the simpering smile faded from her face. "I want to know why you lied to me five years ago. Why did you tell me that Anne was married and living in Kingsport?"

She fiddled with the buttons on her coat, her brown eyes darting to the station clock. "It was only _supposition_ , Gilbert. No one had seen her around for ages."

He took a step toward her, his look menacing. "You always had your finger on the pulse of every bit of gossip that came through this town. You would have known _exactly_ where she was- that she was teaching in Summerside. You would have hated it more than _anyone_ if she was married," he growled.

Josie's chin came out aggressively. "I saved you from making a fool out of yourself again, that's all. You think everyone didn't notice that you were still infatuated with her?"

At the sound of the train whistle, a shaking Gilbert turned to see the train coming down the hill to the little station. He turned back to a Josie who couldn't meet his eyes, and was fiddling with her gloves.

"You're better off alone, Gilbert. She was never going to care about anyone except for herself. She'll be a spinster forever."

Gilbert's look was furious. "Better a spinster with good character and a good heart than someone who lies and cheats to get what they wanted. Even back in school you manipulated everyone to get your way. You think your deceit won't come back to haunt you?"

All pretense of friendliness had gone from her now, and she shot him a vicious look. "Well, wherever Anne has fled to now, at least she's not with you. I made sure she knew years ago that you were long gone."

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he walked away from her, afraid he would not be able to control his rage. He picked up his bag blindly and didn't wait to see Josie greet the sharp-faced young man with the expensive ring on his finger. Gilbert climbed into the furthermost carriage and threw himself into a seat, his hands coming to rub his face. If _this_ was what Anne had to face anytime she came back here, then he'd never say another word about it again- she was better off in Four Winds.

A few minutes later the train began to move, and he looked out the window to see Josie staring at him through the fog on the platform, her pinched face now wearing a look of triumph. It was at this moment that his breath suddenly caught. Josie's last words sounded in his ears, and as the train pulled away he fell back on the chair. In all the years of hurt and anger, he'd never thought to question his own assumptions about what had gone wrong between them. The words of the bitter, vicious girl he had long known echoed in his mind, and those of the red headed woman who had only ever given him her honesty- and Gilbert Blythe was left questioning everything he had ever believed about the past. One hideous thought rose above all others.

If Josie had spoken that way to _him_ \- then what on earth could she have she said to Anne?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

New Year's Eve found Gilbert in the comfortable Winston household, the fire-lit rooms filled with guests. To Penny's delight, her mother and father had brought their youngest brother to Four Winds, and she had barely been able to sit down for excitement since they had arrived. Gilbert was included with ease in the family; Andrew's introduction of him as a young doctor from Montreal was sufficient to make him a welcome addition to the family party. Mr Winston was a round, jolly fellow, who was happy to discuss Montreal's beauties with Gilbert at length, while a wildly excited Lizzie ran from room to room while Penny served tea, making sure that all under her roof were content. Andrew was taking a short break from the heat and chatter of the warm sitting room, and his mother stepped into his study to find him lounging on the sofa.

"Really, Andrew, you couldn't remain with your guests a little longer?" she scolded, smoothing the lock of blonde hair that fell over his forehead.

He sat up, brushing it back with an aggrieved air. "Mother, I only stepped out a few minutes ago, you know that."

She tut-tutted, and seated herself on the horsehair sofa, her elegant yellow gown seeming to glow in the dim room. "We're only here for a few days, Drew."

He smiled then, and put down the paper he had been perusing. "I know, Mother. And I'm thrilled that you could all come- Penny's been missing everyone."

His mother grimaced. "Andrew, do listen, now. Have you given any thought to what I suggested?" Mrs Winston asked candidly.

Andrew sighed, having known this was coming. "Mother, my work is _here_ -"

"And your family is not, dear." Andrew went to speak, and his mother held up her hand. "And of course you have my granddaughter with you. But the whole family could be there for you- Lizzie could be playing with her cousins, your nieces and nephews!"

Andrew shook his head. "I came here for Madeline-"

"And I honour that. But darling Maddie is no longer here," his mother said softly. "She would want you taken care of again."

Andrew sighed, and shook his head. "Mother, I'm just not prepared to leave Four Winds at this time."

Mrs Winston looked at her son with regret in her eyes. She could see there was no point in arguing, and at last nodded. "I do understand, dear." She fixed him with a stern eye. "I worry about you, Drew."

He laughed then. "Mother, I swear that I'm perfectly well. My practice is growing, and Lizzie is doing well at school. We're happy here."

Mrs Winston's shoulders dropped. She had expected that he would say no, however she couldn't help but shoot him a pleading look.

"And there is no young lady here who has caught your eye?" she asked, making Andrew roll his eyes. "If there were, I shouldn't worry so."

" _No_ , Mother. Look, I might wait till Lizzie grows up and leaves me- I promise that I'll try and get remarried then," he teased.

His mother stood then, with a cross look. "Oh, very well then."

Andrew laughed. "If you're going to worry about someone, worry about Penny or Jackson."

"I am worried about Penny, dear," she said calmly, making him sober in an instant. "She's lonely here."

Andrew sighed. "I know that, Mother."

She took her son's hand in both of her own, her look gentle. "I want you all happy, Drew, I want you to find love again- and I want Penny to be adored like I am by your father. Not settling, or only doing what she thinks she is expected to do. And darling, I believe that she wants to come home. Please, promise me that you will consider moving back to Montreal, for all of your sakes." Andrew stood up then, coming to embrace his mother. She smiled as her tall son rested his head against her shoulder for just a moment, and gave him a mischievous look. "Now, dear; it's time for you to rejoin your guests. Your father was horrified to find that Doctor Blythe never made time to see the Notre-Dame Basilica while he was living in Montreal, and was busy telling him all about it when I left them. We'd better go and rescue your friend."

* * *

Later that night, Andrew and Gilbert stood outside on the front porch, and Gilbert watched the starlight while Andrew busied himself blowing smoke rings with his cigar. The winter night was crisp, and Gilbert drew in a deep breath, enjoying being outside the warm house.

"You can still change your mind, you know," his friend said, holding out another cigar.

Gilbert chuckled. "My father always smoked- still does, in fact. I never cared for it."

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Then how did you celebrate your graduations?"

Gilbert shrugged, with a grin. "I tried one after Medical school. I couldn't finish it."

" _Quitter_ ," Andrew said with a grin, before throwing himself into one of the chairs on the porch. "So what did you do after Redmond then? Something wild, I assume; a young college lad on the mainland such as yourself."

Gilbert sat down across from him, his face sheepish. "Ah- well, I believe rather a lot of alcohol was involved."

This made Andrew choke with laughter. "Really? You?"

Gilbert relaxed with a grin, his feet resting on the porch rail. "It was a rough night. I was violently ill, too- although that could have been typhoid on its way." He looked out on the calm street, a slight smile on his face at the sound of laughter coming from Andrew's nearest neighbour, and a piano several doors over. All around were the sounds of celebration, the end of the old year, the beginning of a new one.

"So, any New Year's resolutions for you?" he asked Andrew lightly, as they sat.

He was surprised to see a shadow cover Andrew's normally cheerful face. "Not exactly a resolution," he said slowly. "But I need to do a better job with the family."

Gilbert frowned, not understanding. "You're already doing a good job. Lizzie's happy and healthy, and Penny seems content enough."

Andrew rubbed his forehead with a sigh, his mother's words niggling at him. At last, he spoke. "Actually, I think Penny wants to go home," he said baldly. Gilbert could not really be surprised at that and nodded. Andrew tapped his cigar on the edge of his chair in a way that would have made his sister scold and studied the elegant shoe that rested on his knee thoughtfully. "She's given Lizzie and I four years- and I don't want to see her lose her own chance for happiness." He folded his arms and spoke slowly. "Gil, can you think of a reason- any reason- why I shouldn't find Lizzie and I a housekeeper and give Penny the chance to return to Montreal?"

Gilbert was silent for a time, and at last, he met Andrew's eyes in regret. "No. I can't."

There was a lull on the porch for long minutes after that, and at last Andrew sighed. "Well, I won't pretend that I'm not sorry."

Gilbert only nodded. He knew that Andrew didn't blame him- but he had been correct. Penny deserved a good deal better than half the heart of a man. He was fond of Andrew's sister, but fondness wasn't enough to offer a woman. If he was honest, it would never have been enough for him, either.

As the two men sat in silence, Gilbert pulled his dark grey scarf around his throat, looking out onto the moonlit night. It was what Anne had once called a perfectly white night- hadn't she insisted on walking through evenings like this back home in Avonlea? There was a curious look on his face then. She'd been on his thoughts to a fairly ridiculous degree since he had returned from Avonlea. Was she well? Had she gone back to the house again, perhaps this time with Diana? He gave himself a little shake to clear his head and studied the way the snow lay along the bare branches of the trees.

Some revolution had taken place in him of late. As he had gone about his work that week, he had found his focus changing, almost without realising it. She'd reminded him, he supposed, of the world that was around him. It had been that way so long ago- she'd pointed out the things he hadn't seen- the child who wanted his attention, the nuances of a story that he'd missed. They'd become an excellent team over the four years they had spent together. He smiled retrospectively then. She'd needed his focus back then- he'd needed her ability to see the details that he would have barreled on without. Lately, he'd found himself lifting his eyes from his work, noticing the broader world that he was a part of here in Four Winds.

He looked across at Andrew, who had laid his head back on the chair with a contented look.

"So where will you look for a housekeeper?"

Andrew shrugged. "I guess I'll see what Penny suggests- although I haven't spoken to her about any of this yet."

Gilbert folded his arms. "She may not want to leave the two of you, you know," he pointed out.

Andrew sighed. "I know. But she can't keep putting herself aside to be here if she wants to go home." He stood then, hearing a call from inside the house, and as each man checked his watch, they realised it was only a quarter of an hour until the new year. Andrew turned to Gilbert with a slight smile on his face. "Eighteen ninety-four beckons." He slapped his friend on the shoulder and grinned at him. "So what kind of year is it going to be for the local doctor and lawyer? Mayhem and scandal for two of Glen St Mary's apparently eligible bachelors?"

Gilbert laughed, then. "I've always been partial to optimism, myself. Let's assume it'll be the best year yet."

* * *

It was a bright, clear winter's day when the train pulled into the Glen station with the last chug and hiss of steam. Four months after she had first arrived in the Glen, Anne Shirley stepped off the train and looked around her with bright grey eyes. Seeing several people she knew well enough to nod at, she drew in a grateful breath that took in the scent of the pine trees behind the train station. Four months had altered a good deal in her viewpoint, she thought with a slight smile. The town was familiar now, and there was someone was waiting at home for her. Susan had written that Mr Jones would be collecting her from the station again, and Anne now looked around her in curiosity. Other passengers had been bundled off the platform quickly, and yet there was no Mr Jones.

After a few minutes, she took her bag in one hand carefully and walked toward the ticket office, where she could hear several voices talking. Only feet from the door she halted in some confusion, recognising the owner of the cheerful voice talking with the station master. Eventually, she knocked on the door and stepped in to see an unexpected sight- Gilbert Blythe himself employed fitting a sling to the station master's arm.

"I won't lie, doc, that pains a fair bit," the little man said with a slight groan.

Gilbert tied the knot at his shoulder capably and grinned in sympathy. "I'll give you something for that, but if you will fall off the platform in such a dramatic manner..."

It was then that Gilbert's patient saw Anne. "Miss Shirley, I didn't see you there," Mr Saddler said, as one clammy hand wiped his forehead. At her look of concern, he shook his head. "Nothing to worry about, just a minor tumble."

Anne saw Gilbert turn to her, and her cheeks flushed unaccountably. "Good afternoon, Doctor Blythe; Mr Saddler, I do hope you are alright."

The little man waved the non-injured hand, his smile faint. "Nothing a new pair of spectacles wouldn't have fixed- I missed the step and fell."

Gilbert chuckled. "Glasses wouldn't prevent a dislocated shoulder, Stan. Is someone else coming to help you unload the luggage?"

"Should be here any minute. Miss Shirley, did you need something?"

In Gilbert's presence Anne was uncomfortable stating her need, however, she covered it nicely. "Thank you. Susan told me that Mr Jones was collecting me from the station. I wondered if you had seen him come by yet?"

Mr Saddler looked at Gilbert then. "No, he hasn't been by. I say, Doc, you couldn't drop Miss Shirley off at home, could you? I can tell Eric that she's gone with you instead."

Gilbert nodded easily, ignoring the slight flush on Anne's cheeks. "Certainly. I'll be a few minutes with Mr Saddler, and then I'll be ready."

With a brief hesitation, Anne nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Blythe. If you don't mind, I'll just take a seat outside."

Anne sat down on the little bench outside the office, willing her cheeks to cool. Her smartly shod foot tapped on the ground in vexation, and a frustrated sparkle was in her eyes. Circumstances were just not on her side when it came to Gilbert- she was annoyed that it was always he who seemed to find her in some kind of scrape lately. That this was an exaggeration escaped her, and she raised her hand to the smart grey felt hat on her head, tucking a wayward red curl under the brim again with a scowl. It was her pride, she knew that. She didn't want to be the damsel in distress, she _wasn't_ one. And of course Gilbert Blythe was everything that was courteous, assisting her in whatever way she required- and that smarted. Did he truly see her as helpless now? And yet to protest was pointless. What else could she do but accept it gracefully?

So it was, when Gilbert stepped out of the office followed by the pale but now standing station master, a calm Anne was waiting on the platform. Another gentleman had arrived to assist Mr Saddler with the bags, and Gilbert waved to the gentlemen before he ushered Anne out to the buggy politely.

Within minutes Anne was seated beside him, and Gilbert's mouth curved into a little smile as he looked at her. "So what is it with all of the 'doctor' business with you right now?" he said, startling Anne.

"What do you mean?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I mean the ' _yes, Doctor', 'thank you Doctor_ ' business. I mean, I get it from everyone else in town, but it sounds odd coming from you," he said dryly. "You don't expect that from someone who dared you to race from one side of the Haunted Wood to the other."

Anne couldn't resist a chuckle. "I still can't believe that you won."

The Glen St Mary doctor was indignant. "Hey! I won fair and square, Miss Shirley; I was taller and I had longer legs than you."

"And yet I knew the pathways better and I weighed less than you did." At the scowl he gave her, Anne laughed. "I did concede defeat, I just expected that I would win."

Gilbert shook his head. "And yet now you're here ' _Dr Blythe_ -ing' me."

Anne's look was long-suffering. "Gilbert, you would expect that I would use your title when I am referring to you in public."

"I suppose so." He gave her a suspicious look. "To be honest, it sounds a little like you're mocking me."

Anne huffed at that. "For goodness sake, it's a deserved mark of respect. And-" here she paused, suddenly awkward. "I think there would be few who would understand the manner in which we are acquainted. It seemed more appropriate to refer to you formally."

Gilbert nodded, and the sound of the horse clopping along the dirt road was all that could be heard for some time. He broke it then, his eyes carefully on the landscape. "I'm glad I had a chance to talk to you, actually. I wondered if you were alright after last week."

She flushed then. "I am. Thank you for coming after me." He only looked at her, and she gave a slight smile. "At the time I felt I had to go back to Green Gables to confront everything- however when it came down to it, I couldn't do it. It's possible that I might have somehow managed to push everything behind me again."

Gilbert eventually nodded. "I thought you might have been angry at me, to be honest."

"Why?"

He shrugged, vaguely uncomfortable. "No one likes to have their grief to be exposed. For all I knew, you might have resented me for it."

Anne spoke slowly. "No. I had a lot of time to think while I was in Avonlea. And I realised something- that a part of me was still standing at Marilla's graveside." Gilbert gave her a sharp look. "Wherever I was, here teaching or there at Diana's, I wasn't really present. I didn't realise that I never left that moment."

Gilbert paled, suddenly seeing himself standing in the orchard at Patty's Place as Anne walked away from him.

To cover the way his hands shook at the unwelcome memory, he cleared his throat and spoke. "So- so you're not there any longer?"

Anne gave a wry laugh. "Oh, I think I still visit from time to time. I would be foolish to assume that it's all over. But it's- a little better now." She didn't notice his quiet and continued talking absently. "I suppose at some point I need to make decisions about the future."

He turned to her in surprise, and then looked back at the road Hippocrates was patiently jogging down. "With your work?"

Gilbert saw her shake her head, and an unexpected relief shot through him. "No, I believe I'm where I need to be for now. I mean that I need to decide what I will do with Green Gables."

Gilbert looked at her sideways. "Oh. Would you go back there again?"

Anne smiled sadly, as she shrugged her slim shoulders. "I don't know. To be honest, I can't imagine living there again- but to sell it is so final. I don't think I'm ready for that." She turned to face Gilbert suddenly then, her grey eyes narrowed with amusement. "On that note, I had a visitor at Diana's yesterday. _Charlie_ wants to buy the house from me."

At this Gilbert choked in surprise. "You're _kidding_ me."

"Oh no; he told me that he has big plans to modernise it, with indoor plumbing, bay windows and a tennis court, apparently," Anne said brightly. "And he will knock down the trees so that it isn't so isolated from the road, with future plans to sell the surrounding fields to investors."

Gilbert couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Trust old Charles to have a future plan in place." He gave a mock shudder. "Hmmph. Charlie's knees and elbows out on a tennis court- now _there's_ a happy thought." He gave Anne a sharp look then. "You're not going to let him do that, are you?"

Anne's look was telling. "I have every intention of not allowing it- and yet it does seem petty to refuse on that basis. If I decide to sell, and I don't plan to return, what right do I have to dictate terms on how they will use the house?" she asked him dryly.

Gilbert turned down the lane that led to the schoolhouse, pausing to tip his hat at a group of ladies talking on the side of the road.

"None, I suppose- and yet you do have the right to say no to his offer." Gilbert then grinned. "The old apple doesn't fall far from the tree, you know. Charlie's father offered to buy Pinewood while we were preparing to leave for Alberta. He told Mother he would take out all of the unhygienic trees around the house."

Anne laughed. "That bothersome apple orchard, you mean?"

"Of course- you couldn't leave _that_ there."

Rosewood Cottage was in sight now, and Anne looked at it with a smile, seeing the smoke rising in languid puffs from the chimneys. "So your family could have left Avonlea before I even got there, it seems."

Gilbert pulled the horse up at the gate, climbing down to help Anne over the wheel. He smiled slightly.

"If we'd gone no one would have pulled your hair or called you 'Carrots'," he said evenly.

Anne accepted her bag off him, some of the formality they had forgotten returning now that they had arrived at her home. Her eyes were studiously turned away. "Well, I'm glad that you didn't. I can't imagine an Avonlea without you, to be honest."

Gilbert smiled and pulled Anne's suitcase from the back of the wagon. Anne took her stick in hand to walk to the door, and Gilbert came to stand beside her.

"Home Sweet Home," he said lightly. "Now all you have to do is relax and prepare for next week."

She was standing on the step close to him, and Anne pushed a red curl back from her forehead with a surprisingly arch look. Gilbert had stopped, oddly distracted by the movement of her hand, and the way the curl fell down by her cheek again.

"Doctor Blythe, I was ready for next week before I left here ten days ago." She saw the surprised look on his face and smiled mischievously. "I'm rather good at this teaching business, you know. And I'm not sixteen anymore."

Gilbert stood with an odd look on his face at her unexpected teasing. For just a moment he had the crazy sensation that the nice, stable world he lived in had been tipped on its side and immediately righted. The hand that he had been staring at so foolishly moved the new walking stick to the other, smoothing the fabric of her grey travelling suit over her breast and tucking the errant curl behind her ear again. The moment Susan opened the door with a warm welcome for Anne, Gilbert snapped to attention. He courteously placed the suitcase inside the door and turned to face her with what he hoped was a neutral look on his face. She had removed her hat now, and he was caught again looking at her hair- good Lord, what on earth was _wrong_ with him? Sleep, it must mean he needed sleep-

"I trust you will sleep well after today," he said lightly, and then flinched at his own stupidity. _Why? Why on earth would he mention sleep to her? Better clarify that-_ "I mean, that you should rest after your trip." _Oh great. That's just great. Tell her what to do, Anne always loved that. Very smooth, Blythe._

Realising the only way to shut his bizarrely uncontrollable mouth was to retreat, Gilbert closed his mouth tightly and doffed his hat in a courtly manner. To his shock Anne laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Now that's a _you_ I haven't seen in years, Gil," she commented. "I would curtsy in response, sir, however, I fear it may unbalance me if I do."

Somehow Gilbert marshalled his wits and gave her a grin. "Well, don't do it just for my sake. You might need to call me to come and fix the damage again."

"I never actually called you last time," she reminded him with a smile. Instead, she placed her slim hand on her breast and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your assistance today, Gilbert. I am grateful."

His last impression of her were those sparkling grey eyes, and as he got himself out of the door, he walked towards his horse feeling unaccountably odd. He had work to do now, he needed to _focus_. He wasn't a green schoolboy any longer, he was a seasoned university graduate. He had given an old schoolmate a lift home. He'd helped her, saw that she was safe. That was _it_.

Gilbert went about his rounds that day with a preoccupied air. Mentally taking inventory of the last few weeks; disturbed nights, meals missed, and unexpected happenings. By the time he reached home he had a list of reasons why he _should_ feel strange, things that were accounted for and perfectly logical. He cooked himself a meal and sat in the chair before the fire to read until he was too tired to see clearly. As the clock struck ten that night he climbed into bed and drew the hangings around him, unsettled by the lack of phone calls on this otherwise completely average day.

As he was dropping off to sleep, he realised with a jolt just what had thrown him. With startled hazel eyes that stared into the darkness on this night, he drew in a deep breath in shock. Far from the phantoms he had seen, the likeness that was yet so _unlike_ , he suddenly understood.

For just a moment, he'd seen Anne again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Penny Winston left her brother's office on the twenty-first of January, shivering slightly to look at the grey skies laden with snow. She was determined to rush through her shopping that afternoon, having decided that today would be the day she would go and call on the town's school teacher. Andrew had asked her to go in his stead, and she agreed, with no outward sign of reluctance.

"Miss Winston, what can we do for you today?"

Penny smiled at the woman who ran the local bakery, her round face flushed from the heat of ovens that rarely went out.

"The usual, Mrs Randall."

Penny was handed three loaves of bread that she placed carefully in the basket, and she looked in the small display case, selecting some butter tarts for afternoon tea. As she was counting out her coins, she heard an incredulous voice behind her.

"You don't make those yourself, Miss Winston?"

Penny turned to greet two older women who had already received their orders and addressed the taller of them. "Mrs Langley, good afternoon." She smiled as evenly as she could. "I'm afraid I was behind on my baking for the day, and Lizzie will be home from school soon."

"In my day, all of our baking was done by noon," Mrs Langley said sweetly. "However the younger generation will do things differently. I suppose your brother doesn't mind how things are kept as long as he is fed."

"Actually, my brother does not need me for that. He's quite proficient in the kitchen himself. Our mother believed in all of us learning to cook." Penny ignored the look of disdain from the other woman, and shifted the basket to the other hand. "I really must be going, I want to make sure I catch Miss Shirley at school today."

The shorter of the women leant in avidly. "I saw the way the school teacher monopolised your escort's time at the Christmas ball, Miss Winston. I found it quite shocking, in fact. You were so polite to handle it so calmly."

Penny's jaw clenched. This wasn't the first time that someone had commented, and she drew in a deep breath. "Doctor Blythe was not my escort that night, Miss Caruthers. My brother was."

"Still, to see him dance with her-"

Penny interrupted, attempting to end the conversation with two of the worst gossips in Four Winds. "Miss Shirley is an old acquaintance of Doctor Blythe's from home. They were classmates, I believe."

"The way I heard it, she was an orphan from Nova Scotia, not the Island." Miss Caruthers commented, with a sharp look.

Penny was calm. "And yet Avonlea is her hometown."

The two women gave her a pitying look as they left the store, and she turned to see Mrs Randall put an extra package into the basket with a frown.

"That's for the poppet, she loves the gingerbread cookies. Your brother comes in here to buy them for her all the time."

Penny gave a shaky laugh. "So that's why Lizzie has such a sweet tooth!"

Mrs Randall moved her sizable frame around the counter and gave Penny clumsy pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about the old crones, Miss Winston. You can't tell me that Doctor Blythe has done anything to be ashamed of- a fine young man like him. The way he helped my Jasper last year-" she said, shaking her head with a sigh. "I thought it was nice of him to talk to the poor dear at the dance."

The younger woman manufactured a smile. "Thank you, Mrs Randall. I'll see you next week."

Penny walked from the building, her feathers distinctly ruffled and her smart shoes moving down the weathered steps quickly. Of all the unreasonable people in the town, those two women were the worst- they were the people who had spread vicious rumours about the couple next door, a hardworking husband and wife who had left the town soon after. Penny's brows lowered in anger. The same couple had been the first to visit a frightened twenty-year-old girl who found herself caring for her two-year-old niece- young Mrs Costa had taught her how to care for Lizzie, and how to work the stove that had so bewildered her.

Penny drew in a deep breath as she walked toward her brother's home. It had always been that way- home was still Montreal for her, she supposed. After taking a moment to calm herself, she left her things on the tidy bench and locked the door to begin the walk to the schoolhouse. She passed the lane that led to the doctor's house and gave a slight sigh. Meeting Doctor Gilbert Blythe had been a welcome distraction for both of the young Winston's only a year before. Had it really only been a year ago? Andrew had found someone who spoke his language, someone whose world was bigger than the small town that they lived in. And she- well, she had never known such a gentleman.

As Penny walked, she shivered at the sight of the bare, white fields that surrounded them, longing for the warmth and bustle of the city in which she had been born. As she turned her eyes to the fir trees laden with wet snow, she sighed. It had been the one downside to the modest hopes she had dared to entertain- that Gilbert was evidently in Glen St Mary to stay.

Penny had considered it, in the thoughtful and careful manner that was natural to her. A life spent in a small town caring for a family, close to Drew and Lizzie- finding a way to bring happiness to the serious young doctor, to erase the shadows that would cross his face from time to time. As time had gone on, however, Penny's hopes had grown fainter- Oh, he liked her, that much was certain. Perhaps Gilbert had no real interest in marrying.

She had been startled to see him dance with Miss Shirley that night, however, her mother's careful lessons on one's behaviour in society were foremost in her mind. Her reaction was being watched, she knew- and so no sign of emotion would show. The surprise was carefully hidden, and Penny was able to conceal the faint jealousy at the way Gilbert had sat by her, talking to her more than she had ever seen him do with anyone. And yet she could detect no partiality there, nothing beyond the acquaintance that she knew them to be.

By the time Penny reached the schoolhouse, she was only just in time to meet her niece at the school gate and instructed her to walk with a classmate to her father's office. She watched Lizzie go with a worried brow and sighed, wondering what the issue was with the young girl. Covering the insecurity she felt at the summons, she breathed deeply and entered the classroom. The teacher was sitting at her desk, marking papers as she approached quietly.

"Miss Shirley?"

Anne put down her pen with a smile. "Miss Winston, come in. Thank you so much for coming to talk about Lizzie."

Penny moved to the seat by Anne's desk and sat down uncomfortably. "Andrew asked if I would be able to meet with you alone, he has a client coming this afternoon."

Anne's manner was calming, and Penny drew in a sorely needed breath. "Firstly, please don't worry. Lizzie is doing wonderfully in class, and she is a delight to teach."

Penny's shoulders dropped in relief. "So the problem isn't with her learning?"

Anne shook her head, her look kind. "Not at all, Miss Winston. The issue is more social in nature." Anne sighed and spoke quietly. "I have two young boys in school who are Lizzie's age, who are having learning difficulties. They have some behaviours that are disruptive in the classroom, and both of them require more instruction than someone, say, of Lizzie's abilities."

Penny's look was curious. "I can certainly appreciate that, Miss Shirley."

Anne's hands were clasped on her desk, and she spoke carefully. "Lizzie appears to be growing impatient with the boys, and like most children her age, she is quite candid about her dislike for the two of them." Penny was horrified, and Anne shook her head earnestly. "Please, Miss Winston, don't be alarmed. This is quite common for this stage, however I would like to address the matter before it grows worse, and I would like your permission to begin talking about this with Lizzie."

Penny seemed unable to process this. "She is being cruel to them? I can't believe that-"

"Of course she isn't," Anne said quickly. "She is simply frustrated, I think. Lizzie is as smart as they come, and I honestly believe that it is simply a lack of imagination- a six-year-old can't instinctively know to look from another person's perspective."

Penny sat back on her chair, slightly pale. "I would never have thought of Lizzie having a lack of imagination."

Anne chuckled, to her surprise. "No, she has a wonderful one- we just need to teach her to use it in a new way. It's around this age that children begin to learn that others lead different lives than they do."

Penny was struggling to not be indignant at the slight to her niece and drew in a deep breath. "What is it you would like us to do?"

Anne's look was thoughtful. "I wondered if we began to talk about the fact that people are unique- that they learn and grow at different speeds. It might help her to have some more patience with the boys in the classroom, who quite frankly are struggling. It's her imagination and compassion that we need here, I feel."

Wishing that Andrew had simply come in her place, Penny sighed. "So she needs to know that people are different."

Anne smiled. "Children who have siblings seem to learn this quicker than the rest of us do, Miss Winston. Lizzie simply hasn't had the benefit of brothers and sisters."

Penny swallowed, thinking of her own family. Sitting here in Anne's classroom, she felt inadequate to make up for what the child lacked.

"I don't know how to do this," she said softly. "Perhaps if her mother had lived-"

Anne sat forward now, her look serious. "You are already doing a wonderful job with her, Miss Winston. Lizzie is bright and settled and capable, and that is something _you_ have given her."

"A child needs a mother, Miss Shirley. I'm not that."

Anne reached out to grasp her hand in understanding. "No, Miss Winston. A child needs someone to _be_ a mother. She has had you in her life since she was little-"

"Two, I came when she was two-" Penny said faintly.

"She's had you since then," Anne said quietly. "You've taught her and mothered and cared for her- she just has _one_ little block in her mind that is quite common to children this age. There isn't anything you or her father have missed, please understand that."

Penny pulled her hand away to find her handkerchief with an embarrassed look. "Thank you. To be honest, sometimes I'm not sure if I am enough for this job."

To her surprise, Anne gave her a tender smile. "My parents died when I was a baby, Miss Winston. I was adopted by an older brother and sister when I was eleven- and I can assure you that Marilla often felt inadequate when it came to raising me."

Penny looked at Anne in consternation. "Oh. I've often thought that if I were older it would be better for Lizzie-"

Anne chuckled. "Not necessarily. I was a rather arduous child to raise, I imagine. Marilla was set in her ways, and didn't know what to do with me- but she loved me as a mother would. Of _course_ a child needs mothering- but you are testimony to the fact that when a mother isn't present, that someone can step in and give a child the love and care they need."

"Thank you, Miss Shirley." Penny's chin lifted then, and she gave Anne a faint smile. "Alright. Well, we will just have to help Lizzie understand."

Anne smiled back. "Of course. I will be talking with all of the students as well; learning compassion is good for everyone."

Penny's look was curious. "Why is it Lizzie, do you think?"

The teacher looked thoughtful. "I think that the idea of struggling with schoolwork is so foreign to her, that she simply can't understand it. The boys may look as if they aren't trying, or that they are stupid- and she doesn't understand that that isn't the case. Lizzie isn't the only child who is having trouble with this, but she is clearly a leader amongst her peers. I would love to use that for good."

Penny rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like Doctor Blythe. He told Andrew that Lizzie reminds him of someone he once went to school with. I don't know if I feel able to raise such a prodigy."

For the first time Anne's startled eyes flew up, and she covered it with a faint smile. "Oh?"

"He said that she was the smartest girl in his school, I think." Penny suddenly flushed with embarrassment. "Miss Shirley, how silly of me- you probably knew her as well."

Anne gathered her papers together with an odd smile. "Oh, I think I know who she was. I do hope I haven't worried you or your brother, Miss Winston. I am very fond of your niece- and she is a delight to teach."

Penny smiled. "She is- and very like her mother, too." On an impulse, she sat forward. "Miss Shirley, I wondered if you would like to join us for dinner tonight. I don't believe we had much of a chance to get to know you when you first came- and I would like the chance to do that properly."

Anne looked at her in some surprise, however, she nodded. "That would be lovely, Miss Winston."

Penny gave her a curious look then. "Miss Shirley, would you mind calling me Penny? My friends are all so far away- and even after four years here, I still feel like a stranger, at times."

Anne laughed, her throat unexpectedly tight at Penny's words. "If you will call me Anne, then certainly. I understand- my friends are far from here as well. Are you sure that your brother will not object to the unexpected company on a Friday night?"

Penny chuckled as she stood from her seat. "He's been complaining about the tedium of winter since our parents left- he will be thankful for the distraction, I think. Would you like to come at six?"

Anne gave the smile that those of the household of faith saw. "I'd be delighted, Penny."

* * *

Andrew Winston arrived home with his young daughter at five in the afternoon, and a chattering Lizzie threw herself at her Aunt's legs.

"And _then_ Papa took me to the store to buy a toy for Mr Flibbet and some caramels for me-"

Penny rolled her eyes. "Drew, she needs to be able to eat her dinner properly."

Andrew grinned. "She will, Pen, she's got her father's stomach. Dinner smells wonderful, by the way. Is there enough for us to have a few guests?"

Penny was bending over the apple pie in the oven and frowned. "Well, I had planned it that way."

"You planned for guests that you didn't know were coming?"

Penny sighed impatiently. "Well, of _course_ , I knew a guest was coming, I asked her myself."

Andrew came to stand beside Penny as she straightened up from the stove. He looked at her suspiciously.

"I don't think we are talking about the same thing, Kitten. Whom did _you_ invite?"

Penny dropped the tea towel on the bench with a smile. "Miss Shirley, Drew. We had that meeting this afternoon, and I wanted to get to know her better. She's lovely." She moved to the cupboard to get some plates when she suddenly realised what Andrew had said. She looked at her brother in horror then. "Drew? If you weren't talking about Miss Shirley, just whom did _you_ invite?"

Andrew ruffled his hair awkwardly. "Well, I have a client coming soon- he's been away from the Glen for awhile, and I thought some company might be nice for all of us. And I poked my head in next door and asked Gilbert to come after his rounds- he should be here soon."

Penny, to his relief, began to laugh. "Drew, you need to be grateful that I never really learned to cook for just three people."

He chuckled. "So there should be enough for everyone?"

She looked at the oven critically. "Oh, I think so. I'll see what else I can pull together- and thankfully we have plenty of food in the house."

Andrew gave his sister a hug and ruffled her hair. "I swear I'll check with you next time."

"You always say that, and you never do," she retorted, as she carried the cutlery to the dining room.

* * *

When a windswept Anne knocked at the door of the Winston house that evening, she was struck dumb when Gilbert himself opened the door. Echos of their past interaction in this entryway would intrude, and it was Gilbert who moved first to put her at ease. There was a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he watched Anne flounder, and he gestured for her to enter.

"I _did_ know you would be here this time," he commented with a slight grin. Anne flushed, and Gilbert took her coat from her. "Penny is busy in the kitchen, she asked if I would wait for you down here. Come on, come into the sitting room and get warm."

Andrew had been tending the big, old fireplace in the room, and came to meet Anne with a smile. "Miss Shirley, thank you for meeting with my sister today. We appreciate the time you've taken with Lizzie."

Anne smiled back. "You're quite welcome, Mr Winston. Your daughter is a fine student."

Penny had filled Andrew in, and he sat down next to the teacher with some concern. "I'm very sorry that Lizzie has made things harder for the two boys," he said quietly, gesturing for Gilbert to make himself comfortable.

Anne shook her head, her face gentle. "Lizzie is a very intelligent child, Mr Winston, I believe she will understand easily."

Gilbert was curious and raised one eyebrow at his friend. Andrew filled him in then, referring to Anne for further clarification. Gilbert's look was thoughtful, and he inquired about the boys in question.

Anne removed her gloves with a compassionate look. "I think one of the boys has a hearing problem, Gil. He does better if he is closer to me, but across the classroom, he will barely attempt his work and can be quite sullen. As for the other, do you remember the youngest of the Cotton children?"

Gilbert stared at her. "Was that Elsie?" he asked.

"Yes. I noticed that she struggled with following more than one instruction when I first began teaching. I found that I needed to rethink the way that I set lessons for her." Anne turned back to Gilbert with a thoughtful look. "I remember that you suggested that she might do better if I simplified the tasks for her, and took the time to walk her through each stage."

He nodded with a frown.

"Tommy is similar. They just need more time from me, and Lizzie, bless her heart, grows impatient with them quickly- she simply doesn't understand."

Andrew tried to pay attention to the conversation, but as Lizzie herself came running into the room to hug her beloved teacher, his mind was otherwise occupied. Far from the way he had watched the new teacher interact with his friend in his home before, he was now studying the pair of them in genuine shock. The familiarity they had with each other was startling. Gilbert's words rang in his ears: _she was my best friend_ . Andrew had wondered what that meant- and now he could imagine it. Over the course of the next few minutes, he was silent, listening with one ear to the two of them discussing teaching methodology. Andrew could not keep from his face an expression of disbelief. Whatever Gilbert had said to him months ago, it was very clear to him that the full scope of the school teacher's relationship with the doctor was far more complicated than Gilbert had allowed it to be.

It was only minutes later when the doorbell rang again, and Penny's quick steps could be heard welcoming Andrew's other guest inside. She ushered the gentleman into the cosy room, and he confidently crossed the room to shake Andrew's hand with a smile. Two people's breaths caught at the sight of him, although neither of them was looking at the other.

"I'm not sure if anyone apart from Gilbert has met my latest client- I'm doing some contract work for him with his latest book."

The gentleman turned to both Penny and Anne with a smile that combined both honest feeling and charm on his handsome face. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Winston," he said, and then turned to Anne, who had an unexpected flush on her pale cheeks. Recognition flashed in his dark grey eyes then.

"It's _you_!" he said, stepping towards Anne, who had risen from her seat. He took her hand in his, the smile blossoming on his face. "I wondered which enchanted shore you had sprung from."

Anne attempted to pull her hand from his in some confusion, seeing the bewildered look on both Penny and Andrew's faces.

Andrew recovered first. "So you have met our school teacher, Miss Shirley then?"

The man turned to his host with a beaming look. "I met Miss Shirley on the train from Charlottetown a few weeks ago." He turned to Anne again, a smile lurking behind his eyes. "Miss Shirley would not give me her name, however hard I pleaded, nor tell me what her destination was. And here I find you in the land that bore my ancestors! This _is_ fate."

Gilbert stood as if turned to stone, his startled eyes flicking from one to the other.

Andrew then turned to his sister with an amused look. "Then you are the only one who doesn't know my client, Kitten." His hand clapped on the gentleman's shoulder, and he smiled. "Penny, may I present to you, Mr Owen Ford."

Owen turned to his hostess with a devastating smile. "At your service, Miss Winston."

Gilbert Blythe stood behind the others, his face frozen as he watched Owen's eyes turn back to Anne with evident interest. When Owen at last looked in the direction of Gilbert, he gave him a brief nod.

"Doctor Blythe and I are acquainted." His look was amused. "You'll have to forgive me, Blythe, I confess that I didn't see you. Unsurprising when I am surrounded by such beauty here; no offence intended towards you or Andrew."

Gilbert stepped forward with a handshake that was perhaps a little firmer than was necessary. "Ford," he acknowledged coolly. "I didn't expect to see you back here, to be honest. What would make you return?"

Owen gave an easy smile. "My mother was born here, which makes this place close to being home. I was recently lucky enough to buy the house that my grandfather built- and I can conduct my business from anywhere. No, I intend to stay put for awhile." He turned back to Anne with a warm look. "Perhaps for _quite_ awhile."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

In the wake of Owen's arrival Anne was silent, and she drew in a deep breath when Andrew offered to show Owen through the house. Penny was quick to speak to move toward Anne. "Miss Shirley-"

Anne gathered herself together and smiled at her hostess. "This is a home of surprises! And I thought that you were going to call me Anne."

Penny chuckled. "Anne, of course. You must have spent a good deal of time talking with him on the train."

Anne smiled. "It was a long journey, and he was most insistent on finding some distraction for himself, I think."

Penny gave Gilbert a puzzled glance. "Gilbert, do sit down, you make me nervous by standing all the way over there."

Gilbert took a seat just as Lizzie came into the room. The little girl's blond curls bounced on her shoulders, and her blue eyes were wide.

"Aunt Penny, Mr Flibbet did something naughty in papa's study," she gasped, making her aunt groan.

"Oh, that dog… Anne, Gilbert, please make yourselves at home. Dinner may be delayed a little."

When their hostess left the room in a swirl of purple skirts, Gilbert looked across at Anne curiously. "So you've met Four Wind's resident author," he said lightly, not wanting to admit the uneasiness running through him at that moment.

Anne smoothed her black skirt over her knees. "I have," she said calmly.

"Although it appears he didn't really meet _you_."

Anne gave a wry chuckle. "A lady by herself on a train does not give personal details to strangers, Gilbert, even if they _are_ writers."

Gilbert gave her an amused look. "It appears they don't. You didn't trust him then?"

"I didn't _know_ him." Wanting to change the subject now, Anne stood, moving over to the mantelpiece to look at the figurines there.

Gilbert followed her with his eyes. Without conscious thought, he observed the way she moved more steadily on her feet now.

"You bought a new walking stick," he commented quietly.

Anne turned back to him in surprise. "I did." She hesitated then, a very faint twinkle in her grey eyes. "I managed to find a taller one in Avonlea- and I will admit that you were right, doctor."

Gilbert chuckled. "You just needed more height to support you. How are you handling the cold?"

Anne shrugged slightly with a smile. "I was never sure how it was going to be since this was my first winter outside the hospital. I am slightly stiff in the mornings, however, Susan keeps the house warm for my sake. I think that I'm handling it as well as I could hope to."

His hands deep in his pockets, he moved to join her absently. He noticed Anne looking with interest at the miniatures, particularly at the bird in the gilt cage. A gentle smile was on her face, and he was intrigued. "What is it?"

Her unexpected smile blossomed. "Gog and Magog."

He gave her an odd look. "I beg your pardon?"

She chuckled, then. "The china dogs from Patty's Place. Do you remember them? Gog looked to the right, and Magog to the left. Miss Patty left them in the house because I liked them- and they were white china with green spots." She carefully lifted the bird down in her hand, white china with green wing tips and face. "This bird could easily sit with the two of them- the colours could not be better matched." She placed it back with a smile, not noticing the odd expression that passed across Gilbert's face.

"Do you hear from Stella or Priscilla often?"

Anne turned to him in some surprise. "I do, from time to time. They're both well. Priscilla and her husband live in Saint John now. They came back from Japan when the twins were born."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "He was a businessman?"

"A missionary." Anne sat down on the nearby sofa with a smile. "Stella fell in love with Massachusetts when she visited her brother there, and she's been teaching at a Boston boarding school for the past four years." To her surprise, Gilbert joined her on the seat then, his look thoughtful.

"And she's never married?"

She gave a laugh then, her eyes twinkling. "Never say never, Gil. There are rumours of a handsome mathematics teacher at her school." There was a little sigh then. "Stella's Aunt Jimsie died two years ago."

He turned to her, startled. "I'm sorry. I know how you all loved her."

"We did." Anne gave a gentle laugh then. "She swore she wouldn't look after us at all, you know- she said that we were old enough to know how to behave on our own."

She looked up at Gilbert's chuckle. For a moment it lifted the tired expression on his face, and Anne could not repress a short sigh. Every month that passed made her more and more a part of the shore she had come to- and yet closer to the inevitable moment when she would see him marry another. The thought of leaving Four Winds was intolerable- and yet who knew how much she would have to endure if she didn't eventually leave? One day Gilbert would have someone to care for him- as of course, he should- someone to make him rest and bring him laughter- a wife to cherish him, children who would gladden his days.

Despite the warmth of the fire, Anne could not repress a shiver. Penny was sweet- and she would make Gilbert a wonderful wife one day.

Deliberately she drew in a deep breath and packed unsettling thoughts away. She could only take one day at a time.

A flushed Penny was soon in the doorway, inviting the two of them to come to the dining room. Gilbert held out his hand to assist Anne to her feet, the move so natural that neither of them noticed the startled look on Penny's face. She covered swiftly though, and the group were soon assembled around the elegant room.

* * *

Nothing could have been more different than Anne's first meal at the house. The conversation flowed easily, and Andrew gave a contented sigh to see his sister talking animatedly with the others, his home full of laughter once more. Lizzie was in her element at the dinner table, keeping Anne occupied with a steady stream of chatter through the meal, despite protests from her father.

"Lizzie, darling, you need to eat your meal if you want to have pudding," he said to his small daughter. He grinned at Anne. "And if you keep Miss Shirley talking all night then she won't finish her dinner."

Lizzie's eyes were huge as she studied her beloved teacher's face. "Then _you_ won't get pudding either."

Anne laughed then, giving Penny a quick grin. "Then you and I had much better start eating, hadn't we?"

Owen Ford watched Anne from across the table with an amused smile. She entertained the little one very well, he thought, and yet he was honest enough to wish she would look at him instead. It was rare that he had to work for anyone's attention, these days. He had been in conversation with Andrew for most of the meal, noticing the people around him as only a writer could. Idly watching Penny's gentle laugh, the way she touched Blythe's arm lightly. He didn't even appear to notice her doing it. That was Blythe, alright, more interested in his work than any woman.

His new solicitor was pushing back from the table, evidently well satisfied after his meal, and again Owen's eyes turned to Anne in curiosity. Here was depth, here was _passion_ , he instinctively felt. The sombre black gown, the severe high collar and long sleeves revealed the school teacher and lady she evidently was- and yet in those eyes was so much more, and in clear defiance of the air of patient grief that surrounded her, the glorious hair that was the colour of a fiery sunset.

She was _stunning_.

And yet so completely different to what _she_ had been.

Owen's glance flicked across to Gilbert then. He'd already made up his mind when he arrived- there could be no harm in trying to find her again. He only hoped that the Glen St Mary doctor would be more forthcoming with information this time.

Gilbert's experience of the meal had been interesting, to say the least. He'd deliberately tried to keep his eyes from Anne, not wanting to unsettle her, at the same time listening intently to every word he heard her speaking to the little girl.

"And I don't like Jacob McAllister, either," he heard Lizzie say flatly. "He said I was _short_."

Andrew looked at his daughter lovingly. "You _are_ short, little duck."

"He's only taller because he's eight," an incensed Lizzie spluttered. "It's not _fair_ to be teased about things that you can't help."

Anne felt rather than saw the grin on Gilbert's face, and grey eyes met the hazel ones for a brief second. "Well, sometimes little boys don't know when to stop teasing."

Gilbert coughed slightly at this, much to Penny's consternation.

"You know, Lizzie, I used to get teased in school as well," Anne said innocently, with a smile for the grumpy child.

"But _you're_ not short."

Anne chuckled, along with the rest of the table. "No, I used to get teased about my hair. And I got very cross about it, too."

Lizzie looked up at her teacher in surprise. "But you _never_ get cross- not even when you broke your chalk!"

Anne bent closer to the girl, her eyes twinkling. "I used to have quite a bad temper, Lizzie. And unfortunately, everyone at my school knew about it."

Gilbert had been battling not to laugh, and at this, he almost broke.

Penny smiled kindly at the look on Anne's face. "I can't imagine that, to be honest. You seem very patient to me, Anne."

Andrew grinned. "Not like you when _you_ were little, Pen."

To their guests' delight, Penny openly scowled at her big brother. "I had an older and younger brother who teased me constantly. I'm fortunate that Stephen was too polite join in." She turned to Anne then. "Stephen was always very serious- even as a boy."

Gilbert grinned at his friend. "So you must have been quite the shock to your parents then."

Andrew laughed. "I was. How about you, Ford?"

Across the elegant table, Owen smiled. "Well, as an only child who went to a boy's boarding school, I wouldn't say I got much teasing in." He gave Anne and Penny a warm look. "I certainly wasn't tormenting teachers, or pulling the girls' hair in class."

At this Anne choked a little on her water, her face slightly pink.

"Are you quite well, Miss Shirley?" Gilbert murmured behind his own glass, and when Anne looked across the table at him, his hazel eyes twinkled into her own. Anne looked at him in shock. _The incorrigible man was actually teasing her!_ Anne took a moment to compose herself, but not before shooting Gilbert a warning look that showed she was about to laugh.

Penny smilingly smoothed the napkin over her lap. "I wouldn't suspect that you would, Mr Ford. You and Doctor Blythe are far to polite to get up to the antics that my brother and his chums used to." She turned to Andrew with a mischievous look. "How you became a respectable lawyer, I will never understand."

* * *

After the meal, Lizzie insisted on Anne going to see her room, and Penny watched the two of them go with a smile. She busied herself with the tea things, thinking about how pleasant it was to spend time with people her own age for once. For a brief moment she paused, a wry smile on her face. Of course, she was much younger than everyone else- by a good five years, at least. And yet some of the girls she had grown up with were now mothers of bouncing babes, running homes of their own.

Her guests had settled in the sitting room when Penny became aware that Anne was still with the young girl- who should have been in bed by now. Owen and Andrew moved to his study to finalise some paperwork, and Penny put Gilbert to work laying the tea tray while she hustled down the hallway. When Gilbert was done, he looked around him with a frown. The tea was sure to be in the pantry- and yet it wasn't. After a few minutes of looking around the tidy kitchen, he thought it best to simply find either of the Winstons and ask. The wide hallway, he knew, led to Andrew's office. He thought he heard Penny's voice talking with Andrew and moved in that direction.

Suddenly, he stopped, hearing another voice in a nearby room. In curiosity he turned and halted as he saw Anne sitting on Lizzie's bed, talking to the wide awake little girl. She was looking away from him, and for reasons he couldn't name, he watched the pair of them for a time with an odd lump in his throat. For just a moment he let his mind go to places long forbidden. He'd pictured just this, once upon a time. She had been sitting by a child's bed then too, a little one with _his_ hazel eyes and _her_ curly red hair.

Without hearing what they were saying, he saw Anne laugh and bend to kiss her forehead. Carefully she stood then, and Gilbert drew his breath in sharply. He turned and fled to the kitchen, berating himself for the nonsensical excursion into the past. When Penny and Anne came out together, Gilbert was standing by the stove with an odd expression on his face, and Penny looked at him inquiringly.

"Tea," he said sheepishly. "I couldn't find the tea."

Penny shook her head with an amused smile. "You can be just like Andrew, you know, Gilbert. It was on the tray next to the teapot." She turned then, shooing both Anne and Gilbert toward the sitting room. "Honestly, it's time for me to be a proper hostess to you all- one guest is putting my niece to bed, another is laying the tea tray for me. Go on in, I'll call Andrew and Mr Ford and we can all sit down cosily."

Without a word, Gilbert followed Anne into the warm room, and they sat down in the seats they had occupied earlier. Gilbert frowned slightly, feeling oddly unsettled. Something was shifting between the two of them- some line had been crossed, whether they were ready or not. Eight and a half years now since their friendship had been broken. Six and a half since he had last seen her. And now four and a half months since she had made Glen St Mary her home. Surreptitiously he chanced a look at her, to see her gazing into the fireplace, her grey eyes thoughtful. So many questions still remained in his mind about the past- yet it almost seemed impossible to ask, now. Had too much time passed since she had arrived, too much water gone under the bridge? Unconsciously, he let out a sigh. It was too late for them to be what they once were- perhaps the choice to let the past go meant letting this go, as well. There was a twinge in his heart then as the image of his younger self appeared in his mind- the young man who had mulishly fought for her friendship for so long. He knew just what _he_ would say to him. It was this image that made Gilbert chuckle slightly.

Anne looked at him in surprise, and he jumped guiltily as if she had read his thoughts. Gilbert searched for a reason for his involuntary laugh, and gave her a faint grin. "I was just thinking about me being described as too sensible to pull a girl's hair."

Anne sighed, and then laughed herself. "And myself as unlikely to have a temper."

Gilbert was silent then, and suddenly all teasing fell away. "Do you think we've really changed that much?" he asked suddenly.

Anne was startled by this, however, she answered him honestly. "I suppose so." She gave a wry grin, then. "We're supposed to be older, wiser and more dignified, aren't we? I can't imagine you not teasing, though. I still think you can do it."

He smiled. "Maybe I'm just saving it all up for something especially wicked."

Anne chuckled. "Like pulling the hair of the premier when he visits in February?" Much to her pleasure, he laid his head on the back of the sofa and grinned lazily.

"I'll think about it," he said. "What about you?"

"Well, I certainly won't pull his hair." Anne looked into the firelight then, relaxing against the sofa. "You mean my temper?" She smiled at him slightly. ' _When I became a man, I put away childish things,'_ " she quoted with a slight smile. "Childish temper tantrums don't belong to a twenty-eight-year-old woman. I think that is one thing I _needed_ to grow out of."

Gilbert gave her an odd look. "They weren't all childish temper tantrums, Anne. Everyone needs to have some fight in them. I always admired the fact that you stood up for yourself- that people didn't intimidate you."

She looked at him then, confused. "Of _course_ I was intimidated at times, Gilbert."

"You never let it show-"

She quirked one eyebrow at him. "My temper was often a result of me reacting to my insecurities- as you no doubt remember."

"I suppose so." He chuckled, but when he spoke again, his voice was low. "Were- were you ever angry after the accident?" Gilbert watched her carefully, wondering if he had probed too far.

Anne stiffened, however she drew in a deep breath. "Yes. I was," she said frankly. "When- I became more aware of my surroundings, after the danger of infection had passed- I had more time awake- and inside, I raged." She shook her head, and pushed the softly curling red hair from her forehead with a sigh. "I had an elderly doctor who would come and sit with me when he was on night duty. He was a little man- and he studied eastern medical practices in his time. He would bring me a cup of tea that he had brewed himself, and tell me that I had to find inner peace." She chuckled, and Gilbert watched her, spellbound. "I had no idea what he meant. Every night I would lie awake in pain, and every night he would tell me to breathe in and out, over and over again. He used to say that I needed to accept my situation- that I was far too stubborn."

Gilbert couldn't keep a smile from his face at that. "And yet that is most likely why you aren't in a wheelchair."

Anne nodded, and in the silence she watched Gilbert wistfully. She found herself asking him the same question. "Were _you_ ever angry?"

Gilbert froze. This was as close as they had ever come to addressing what had passed between them. He cleared his throat, his eyes on the distant wall. "Yes." He saw her flinch and folded his arms across his chest. "I suppose everyone _is_ , at times. But you can't live like that forever. I learned that."

Anne gave him a peculiar look. "No. You can't."

At this moment, Andrew and Owen entered the room, and Penny followed close behind with the tea trolley. Andrew watched the pair curiously, having the unaccountable feeling that they had walked in on something. Nothing outwardly seemed amiss, and he dismissed the thought from his mind.

"Owen was just telling me about his new house," he said lightly.

Mr Ford smiled. "My _old_ house, you mean. It was the house my grandfather built for my grandmother before she arrived from England."

Penny smiled. "How wonderful, Mr Ford! Has it always belonged to your family?"

Owen's look was wistful. "No. When I came to Four Winds two years ago- to find that the house was abandoned. It hurt me- my mother had loved it so." He turned to Anne with a smile. "I came out here after a brush with typhoid. My doctor ordered me to the shore- and I came to see the beauty and enchantment she had often spoken of." There was a shadow that seemed to pass over his face then. Anne, who had looked up instinctively at the mention of typhoid studied him. He seemed to address her directly then. "I came across an old sea captain who had known my grandparents- who spoke of the love the two of them had shared, of the birth of my mother in their house by the sea. When I first looked upon the house I felt I had come home, Miss Shirley."

Anne's eyes had softened. "I understand. I felt like that when I first saw Green Gables."

The hand that sat in Gilbert's pocket suddenly clenched.

Owen sat back, his lean frame stretching out in the chair. He adjusted the immaculate cuffs he wore, and smiled. "When I met the good captain, he told me tales of his extraordinary life- and I realised that his story was the one I was waiting to tell. He'd always wanted someone to write it for him- and over that summer, together we wrote The Life Book."

Penny smiled. "It was a wonderful story, Mr Ford. Tales of adventure and passion and bravery- it was marvellous."

Owen bowed slightly, his expression pleased. "I was honoured to collaborate on it. Sadly, the captain died just after it was published," he said, and his eyes darkened. "At the very moment my dreams came true, the man who inspired it was gone." He sighed then. "Captain Jim was one of the links to a past that few remember, anymore."

Anne looked at him curiously. She had read _The Life Book_ , of course. It was one of the last books she had bought for herself before the accident- however, it was not until she arrived in Four Winds that she had found the time to read it. Mirth and adventure and tragedy, the pain of a love lost, and yet the life that would go on bravely in spite of heartache. She studied the look that crossed his handsome face, wondering if the heartbreak he wrote of had once been his own. she understood that. Her eyes fell and her cheeks heated then, acutely conscious of the man who sat so near her. Penny had handed her a cup of tea, and Anne sat it on the little table beside her, willing her hands to steady.

Owen was talking again, and she pulled herself back from her thoughts with an effort.

"I've had builders in the house for weeks now, in an attempt to make the house functional again," he said, in response to a question of Penny's. "Alex Crawford is doing the work for me- and he is a master craftsman in the guise of a builder. I couldn't wish for anyone to respect the history of the place more." He turned to Anne then, his look warm. "I remember you saying how much you missed your home shore. The view of the Four Winds shore is wonderful from my house, Miss Shirley. I believe it may be the best view of the harbour. I should very much like to show you it, some time." A startled look crossed Andrew's face at Owen showing such a marked preference, and Owen was quick to speak again. "I would love for you all to come, in fact. I have been wanting to host an informal opening of the house- and in the depths of winter, the comfort and warmth of friendship is welcome. How would you all like to be my guests in a fortnight's time? If you visit early enough in the afternoon there will be time to explore before dinner."

Andrew cleared his throat, looking oddly at Gilbert's expression. "It would be a pleasure, Owen. Miss Shirley, we would be honoured to be able to escort you that day, if you wish."

Anne's cheeks were once again pink, and she could find nothing more to say but a soft "Thank you."

Owen turned to Gilbert. "Blythe, what say you? Come and see the shore from my house of dreams?"

After a moment Gilbert gave Ford an even look. "Pending any emergencies, I accept."

Owen smiled, "Wonderful. I'll let my housekeeper know."

* * *

A short time later, Anne stripped off her gloves in the entryway of Rosewood Cottage, smiling at Susan as she came to take her coat. The two of them chattered lightly as Anne prepared for bed, and soon she was comfortably settled, sitting up in bed to braid her long red hair back. Susan had laid out a nightgown that made Anne smile- one of the many Mrs Lynde had made for her in the hospital, insisting that Anne should still dress like a lady. The intricate yellow embroidery on the yoke of the gown was sweet, and she sighed. It was too soon to take off her mourning, however, at night time she could pretend that her pretty gowns were normal, again. Anne settled back in bed, blowing out the lamp beside her.

The pale moonlight shone in on the forget-me-not papered walls, and she suddenly frowned. The evening had been a mixed blessing. She had honestly enjoyed herself that night- the Winstons were hospitable and friendly, but how did she continue to spend time with them, and not encroach on Gilbert? These were _his_ friends. Anne gave a little huff of frustration. _He_ didn't appear to be worried. But then why should he? He had nothing to prove to her.

The polite discussion about who would drive her home that evening had utterly humiliated her. Whatever their motivations had been, both gentlemen were equally courteous, equally as adamant that it was no trouble. Inside Anne had writhed, feeling that the best thing she could do was to walk home and go buy a horse first thing in the morning… she and Susan had had this discussion before.

In the end, Gilbert had insisted that he needed to make it an early night, as he had early patients to see the next day. The two of them had driven home together in comfortable conversation, however, a discomposed Anne now lay in bed, a frown on her face. This no man's land of uncertainty between Gilbert and herself was driving her ever so slightly mad- the friendship that could not really be _friendship_. It was one thing to decide to make things easier for him and stay away, however, their respective positions in the town meant that a complete separation of lives was impossible. His lack of argument alone confused her- _surely_ he couldn't be wanting her nearby.

She leant over to pull the heavy curtains closed, and flopped back, pulling her leg up to rub her aching ankle. In the darkness now she saw him giving her the twisted smile she remembered so well, his lean figure turning to walk back to the buggy in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and stilled herself as the old doctor had taught her to do, a faint smile coming to her tired face then. As uncomfortable as it had been at times- as little welcome as being without a means of transport had been, the worry about him not wanting her nearby and the presence of the woman he _must_ be in love with was- Anne Shirley's cheeks flamed in the darkness of the cool night. As she looked at the cost of the situation she was in, an unbidden warmth welled up in her chest, and she blinked away a small tear.

Simply to be near him again was _worth_ it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The week that followed the dinner at the Winstons was a busy one. Katherine Brooke made her long-awaited visit, and Susan was greatly pleased with the laughter that rang through the house, and at having another person to care for.

On the first evening at Rosewood Cottage, Katherine sat across from Anne with a wondering look on her face. She'd been candid with herself about her concerns, worried that Anne would not be the same- and yet she was. At first, she had been startled by the stick Anne carried and the casual way Susan assisted her so often, however it soon faded under the comfortable comradeship she remembered. Anne now sat on the sofa after Susan had tucked her there warmly, and met her friend's look with dancing eyes. "And so who is he?"

Katherine's cheeks flushed, and she frowned, ostensibly to hide her self-conscious look. "He's the secretary to the British counsel," she admitted, her eyes twinkling. "He moved to Ottawa a few months ago."

Anne's smile was huge. "Is he handsome?"

Katherine flushed. "Not really," she said bluntly, making Anne laugh. "He's thin and awkward and wears giant spectacles."

It took Anne some time to stop laughing, and even Susan popped her head in to find out what was the matter. "Darling Katherine, there must be _something_ about him-"

Katherine gave a grudging smile. "There's more than something, I will confess that. He's intelligent, and well read, he's travelled and lived in Europe for several years now." She rolled her eyes at her own foolishness, and a smile broke through. "His family are lovely, and he treats me like I am- special. He even holds doors open for me, and he tells me if he likes the way I look," she said, flushing in embarrassment.

Anne's smile was tender. "Of _course_ he does. You are magnificent- and that is a French tailor you are wearing, unless I am mistaken?"

Katherine smiled down at the smart brown suit she wore. "I decided to indulge myself on the last voyage."

Anne beamed. "I told you that clothes were important. Well, I wish your young man all the success in the world."

Katherine's dark eyebrow flew up dryly. "You don't wish me success?"

"No, darling. If he wins your heart, it's _he_ who is the fortunate one."

Katherine was with Anne for four days, coming to her classroom on Friday, and spending each evening talking with her friend until late. She attended church with Anne and Susan on Sunday morning, and after the service stood by while a surprisingly conscious Anne introduced her to Penny and Andrew Winston, and most interestingly of all, one Doctor Gilbert Blythe. Katherine studied him curiously. It had taken several years for Anne to tell her about him- and she would rarely mention him afterward. He seemed polite, and kind- and Katherine admitted frankly that he was an incredibly attractive man. He spoke to her courteously about their common year at Redmond, and yet Katherine was intrigued to see that his eyes always followed Anne. Unless she missed her guess, _something_ was brewing there.

* * *

Only days after Katherine had left Four Winds, a barely conscious Gilbert pulled himself out of bed, dressing quickly and trying not to shiver in the cold dawn. Breakfast was silent, and Mrs Leary tut-tutted as she watched young Doctor Blythe slumping against one hand with his elbow on the table, pushing his oatmeal around the plate listlessly. Eventually he abandoned the attempt, and it was with great reluctance that he readied himself to go into the office.

Several hours and innumerable cups of tea later, Gilbert was slightly more awake, hoping that he would not be needed for any emergencies that day. He did various small jobs around the office between huddling over the stove for heat, and when nothing further needed his attention he sat down at his desk, his eyes watching out the frosted window blearily.

A good portion of the town seemed to be unwell with influenza. The cases varied from moderate to severe, and Gilbert had talked himself hoarse encouraging people to drink plenty of fluids, wash their hands and to stay out of the cold. For some of the farmers he had been caring for this was the equivalent of a jail sentence- and Gilbert despaired at times of making them see sense. He himself set a terrible example, coughing and sneezing and refusing to go to bed when he was needed.

A sign was up in Andrew's window to say that he had gone home, and Gilbert had been relieved that Penny had managed to keep him from going out in the cold again. She and Lizzie were well themselves, and he had last seen Andrew rasping as he worked over the papers from the office, and grumbling about the enforced bed rest.

On this day Gilbert too was considering going home when the door opened, and a swirl of cold wind made him shudder. He looked up to see Susan Baker dusting the snow off her coat.

"Susan? What can I do for you?" he asked, surprised.

She looked taken aback at the sound of his voice. "Doctor Blythe, by the sound of you, _you_ should be at home."

"I'm well enough, Miss Baker. Was there something you needed?"

Susan looked at him closer, and muttered- "Goodness, you're just as bad as Anne is-"

Gilbert stood then, instantly alert. "Is she not well?"

Susan hedged. "Oh, well enough, I suppose. I'm a mite concerned about a cold that she has-"

"Is it a cold or influenza?" Gilbert asked, shrugging on his coat without delay.

"Doctor, she says it's only a cold-" she broke off at the short bark of laughter that swiftly turned into a cough of his own.

"If she's feverish it's influenza," he said grimly.

Susan sighed. "Doctor, she insists that it's nothing to worry about. I just wondered if there was anything I should be doing that I'm not."

Gilbert was standing by the door then with his bag. He gave her a stern look. "Susan, you know what she's like. If you think I need to be there, then you call me no matter what she thinks." He gave her a faint grin. "Blame me for it, if you like. I've got broad shoulders."

Susan followed him out of the door and into the icy streets, trying to hide her sigh of relief. She didn't know what to do with Anne sometimes, she really didn't….

* * *

Gilbert followed Susan up the steps to the stone cottage, already hearing the coughing within. As he was ushered in through the door he walked straight towards Anne's bedroom with his bag, without pausing to wait for a puffing Susan, who gave him a slight scowl at his impertinence. What if she'd been indisposed? Anne, however, was sitting up in bed with a book, and gave her housekeeper a pointed look.

"I'm fine," she said huskily, and began to cough once more, her eyes watering.

Susan tried to catch her breath then. "And when Doctor Blythe tells me that, I will accept his word." She turned for the kitchen, leaving doctor and patient looking at each other.

" _So_ ," Gilbert said drolly. " _Fine_ , are we?"

Anne's chin came up. "Gilbert, I would have called you if I needed to-" she said protesting, as he sat on the edge of her wide bed to pull off his gloves. He then took her slim wrist in his fingers to check her pulse, and Anne sighed, surrendering.

"Susan and I came to an agreement," he said to her in perfect unconcern as he checked his pocket watch. "If she thinks you're not looking after yourself, and you need a doctor, she'll call me, no matter what you say."

Anne scowled. "And what of the ethics of treating patients who say they don't _need_ to be treated?"

Gilbert shrugged, as he moved cool hands up to probe the soft skin under her jaw. "The Hippocratic oath is pretty flexible when you've known them since they were eleven and they don't have the common sense to call you themselves." Her eyes were flashing, and he grinned at her. "She just wants to be sure that you're safe, Anne. She only comes to me if you're scaring her." His eyes were regretful when she flinched at his touch. "The glands in your jaw are swollen, and I'm guessing that throat must hurt a fair bit."

Anne tried to clear it with a wince, and then looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She fell to studying his face carefully. "Say something to me," she said suspiciously.

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up. "I beg your pardon?"

This time she heard the hoarseness in his voice, and her eyes blazed indignantly. "I _knew_ it! You're sick as well!" As his scoff turned into a coughing fit that took a short time to stop, she sat in bed with crossed arms and a crosser face. "As if _you_ shouldn't be at home right now."

"And people still need a doctor," he retorted. "How long were you teaching like this?"

Anne gave him a disgruntled look. "It only got this bad on Thursday," she admitted. "I canceled school yesterday."

Gilbert sighed. "Well, at least you had the sense to do that." He pulled out his stethoscope and regarded her with a quirked eyebrow, waiting for her consent to continue. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, so it was difficult to tell if he was embarrassing her, and Anne eventually nodded, giving a shiver as he placed his stethoscope against her white nightgown. "I'd quite forgotten about this part, Gil."

"What, stethoscopes?"

"No. The way you seem to get sick more often in the first year teaching young children- they love to share their illnesses."

Gilbert continued to check her, wondering how this wasn't more uncomfortable for the two of them. After a minute of listening intently, he sighed. "Well, your chest is clear, thank heavens. But you need to call me if your breathing becomes worse. It's a bad one going around, and I don't want to take any chances."

Susan had come back into the room with a tray, and just in time to see Gilbert move to sit down on the chair by her bed to repack his bag. He looked up to see the housekeeper place a second cup on Anne's dresser.

"Before you head out in the cold you may as well have that, Doctor," she said grimly. "The two of you are as bad as each other."

Gilbert was sheepish as he took the drink, and Susan bustled around the room tidying as he sipped it. "Thank you, Susan."

"Have you eaten today?" the older woman asked imperiously, and Gilbert gave Anne a mute look of appeal. "Err- I had breakfast."

She stalked out of the room muttering, and Anne chuckled. To his surprise then she asked him to turn away for a moment, and got out of bed, taking a green dressing gown from the end of the bed.

"Susan is preparing you some lunch, I believe. We'd best move out to the sitting room."

"You're supposed to stay in bed, Anne. And she doesn't have to-" Gilbert protested, making Anne smile.

"No, but she will." Anne pulled her red hair from the gown then, and frowned slightly as she looked around for her stick. "The sitting room is just as warm. And at _some_ point Susan will realise that she served a gentleman tea in my bedroom and she will be properly scandalised."

Gilbert looked down at the tea cup in some dismay- he'd somewhat forgotten as well. He then watched Anne try to take her tea cup as well as her stick.

"For Pete's sake, give me the tea," he said impatiently. "You don't have to manage everything on your own."

Anne shot him an impatient look that made him smile as she went, and within minutes the two of them were being served tea and toast by the fire. Gilbert looked at a large bunch of flowers on the table and frowned. "Who found orchids at this time of the year?"

Anne cleared her throat with some difficulty, and her face was hot. "Oh. Apparently those are from Mr Ford." In her own discomfort she did not notice Gilbert's, and continued as evenly as she could. "Susan told him I was unwell, and he sent those."

Gilbert's jaw set slightly, however he was too old now to let her know he was bothered by it. Another gentleman who had once showered Anne with exotic flowers she had no real love for came to mind, and it was with difficulty that he kept his voice even. "I see. Orchids were never really you, I thought."

Anne swallowed her tea rather quickly, and flinched at the heat on the back of her throat. "They aren't," she said thickly. "However you couldn't expect Mr Ford to know that. I like flowers I can live with."

"Like lilies of the valley."

Anne only nodded then, knowing that both of their minds were on the same posy that had been tucked into her belt at convocation. She glanced at him and sighed. Gilbert clearly had no wish to discuss the past, she could see that. Had he wanted to discuss it, though, she _would_ have. Thinking of that day over six years ago, and the way a smiling, perfect Christine had clung to Gilbert's arm, Anne's brows lowered.

"May I ask you an impertinent question?" she asked quietly. "You aren't under any obligation to answer."

His look was startled. "You want to ask me something I don't have to answer?"

Anne clasped her hands in her lap. "I want to ask you something that I have no right to ask."

Gilbert exhaled. "Well, that certainly puts a fellow at ease." He folded his arms, and looked at her dryly. "You ask, and we'll see."

Anne's cheeks were pale. "Gilbert, why didn't you marry Christine?"

He was thankful that he had put down his cup earlier, and looked at her in some shock. "Why would I have?" he asked cautiously.

She floundered then. "You were always with her, I assumed- well, all of _Redmond_ assumed-"

"They assumed wrong," he said bluntly. She looked at him in bewilderment, however he didn't appear to wish to elaborate.

Anne cleared her throat carefully. "Oh. Then- I'm sorry for the assumption."

Gilbert gave Anne an odd look. What on earth had possessed her to ask that? Christine had told him everyone knew about her engagement. Although if they were going to be asking things they had no right to ask…..

"I might also ask why you didn't end up with Roy," he said lightly, not missing the way Anne stiffened. He suddenly stopped in trepidation. He didn't know any part of the story- had Roy betrayed her? Had he broken off the engagement and hurt her?

Anne wrapped the dressing gown around her protectively, and stared into the fire. She spoke carefully. "Because I refused his offer of marriage. I told you that when you first came here to see me."

Gilbert drew in a long breath. "I would say that I wasn't really at my best that night. I may not exactly have understood."

The silence was longer this time, and Anne watched him shift on the chair, his face uncomfortable. She couldn't keep back a sigh. What was the harm? The truth was easier than a lie would have been.

"He proposed to me just after Convocation," she said quietly. "I realised immediately that I couldn't say yes, and I turned him down."

Gilbert's mouth tightened. "But you were with him for almost two years- why right _then_ -?"

He saw the look in her grey eyes then, the one telling him to keep his distance. "I thought that he was the right person for me. And despite how hard I tried to make him fit into my life, I realised at that moment that it wouldn't work."

His voice was almost angry then. "You were with him for _two years,_ Anne! I had people telling me _constantly_ how in love with him you were! How could you be _mistaken_ \- how could _everyone_ have been mistaken?"

Anne's eyes flashed dangerously, and she moved as if to stand. "Gilbert Blythe, I do not need you of _all_ people to cast my folly up to me-"

He put a hand on her arm quickly to stop her from moving, his face fierce. "Look, Anne, I swear I'm not doing that- but I just don't understand. I was _there_."

Anne crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her eyes glittering with fire. "It's really quite simple, Gilbert. I thought that I loved him. He looked like everything I imagined I would want as a girl. _But I didn't love him._ "

Gilbert exhaled. "Anne, everyone was so sure-"

"The same _everyone_ who said that you were marrying Christine?" Anne asked, her chin lifting.

There was silence in the room, and every tick of the clock was loud in his ears. At last Gilbert sighed. "I suppose so. But it looked as if you cared."

Anne scorched him with her eyes. "Gilbert, _I_ fooled myself into thinking that I cared for him. Is it any wonder everyone else thought that? I know now how hard I tried to make that a reality. _No one_ wants to imagine themselves a flirt who leads a man on, and so _I kept trying._ And I have been punished for my folly in ways that you can't even comprehend, Gilbert."

He picked up his cup again to keep shaking hands steady, and paused to drink the scalding brew to give them time. At last he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Anne's voice was cool. "That was six and a half years ago, Gilbert. I've had a long time to come to terms with my mistakes. I cannot go back, so I have to live with it. And I _do_. But it is not up to you to hold me accountable for what I did to Roy."

He glared at her then. "I wasn't doing that! I never wanted you with _him_ , you must have known that- but it looked like you _were_!" He ended with another cough, and when he had caught his breath he exhaled, exhausted. "Look, I've made plenty of mistakes of my own over the years; I would never claim otherwise."

Anne had wrestled with telling Gilbert to leave in her anger, her lips almost white with fury, and her breathing fast. As she looked at him though, the years of estrangement that had passed between them made her bite back the bitter words. Instead, she looked into his tired face, and when she was again mistress of herself, her voice was low. "It tainted how I remember our Redmond years. I can't think of them without abhorrence. There is no way of measuring the damage I did back then."

Gilbert looked at her then with a frown. "To Roy?"

Anne gritted her teeth. "Well, of _course_ to him- not that it lasted long. He was married within six months of Convocation. His wife is a sweet little thing, according to Phil."

 _His wife_ -

Gilbert paused in some confusion. He'd known that Gardner was married- five years ago he had attended a function for the Kingsport hospital- one which he had left abruptly. One of the many glittering events that he was expected to attend as the Cooper Prize winner, along with the top students from Redmond's medical school. Chandeliers and glassware gleamed, and champagne flowed freely as he and Jeremy sat with friends, jovial and freed from responsibility for just one evening. He'd been enjoying his dinner in fact, when the host of the benefit introduced Kingsport Hospital's new patron Royal Gardner, apparently just returned from his wedding tour and taking over family responsibilities on his return. Gilbert had frozen in his seat in dumb shock, and didn't dare turn his head towards the front.

That meant _she_ was there.

He'd carefully placed down his glass and grabbed his black coat without a word. Ignoring Jeremy's attempts to call him back, he shrugged the coat on as the liveried servants opened the doors, and blindly strode from the building without a word. A shaken Gilbert tried to catch his breath as he crossed the cobbled road. He wouldn't stay there, he thought stubbornly- he was doing just fine on his own. He wouldn't go back to that misery, he wouldn't put himself there ever again.

* * *

Gilbert now sat in Anne's sitting room, his breathing uneven. If he'd known- if he'd only stayed and seen that it wasn't Anne! Self disgust filled him yet again, and it was with an effort that he turned back to the red-headed girl in the chair across from him. Unconsciously he rubbed a chest that felt uncomfortably tight, trying to remember what he and Anne had been talking about.

"So you- you still hear from Phil?"

Anne nodded, her face closed. "From time to time. She came to see me in hospital a year ago- I don't think she really knew what to do with me though." She listlessly stared into the fire, her chin resting on one slim hand. "I was in fairly bad shape at that time- I truly appreciated that she came, but it was so soon after the accident. I can't have been edifying company."

Gilbert's throat was raw, and he swallowed then. "You can hardly blame yourself for that, Anne. Surely she understood." He tried to smile. "So if Roy married so swiftly, it sounds as he wasn't permanently damaged."

A look of grief crossed her face, and he flinched at his own tactlessness.

Anne swallowed painfully. "I didn't only hurt him."

Gilbert closed his eyes and sighed. He was quiet for a time, and then gave her a faint smile. "They say that we should learn to live without regret."

Anne's smile was self-mocking. "Then ' _they_ ' are idiots."

Gilbert chuckled at her bluntness. "Well, I never quite managed it, either." He paused then, soberly. "It wasn't fair of me to make you tell me any of that. I'm sorry."

She gave the ghost of a smile. "I would like to have seen you try and make me if I was unwilling."

He shrugged then. "I'd know better than to try." He was silent then, and sighed. "It's all in the past now, anyway."

The excursion back in time had worn Anne's nerves to a thread, and as she sat across from Gilbert, she drew in a deep breath. "Gilbert, why are you here with me?" He looked at her in shock, however before he could speak, Anne continued, her voice wooden. "You are every last inch the doctor I knew you would become. And I am more grateful that I can express for the care that you have given."

His look was cool. "Why do I feel there is a ' _but_ ' coming?"

Anne's eyes held a flash of green in their grey depths. "Because I am afraid that you feel you owe me something. You _don't_. And as-" here she paused, nervously. "-as much as I have enjoyed our time, I am aware that it must not be the case for you."

Gilbert had paled. "What would make you say that?" he asked after a moment.

Anne swallowed. "Because five months ago you declared it impossible that we should be friends."

To her utter shock he suddenly laughed at her words. "You declared that for five years, and we got over that." He sobered then, and then it was as if the brief levity in the room had never existed. Anne clenched her jaw, and to his shock she spoke with an honestly that cut like a knife.

"Gilbert, there are times when we forget, and somehow everything goes back to who we once were. And then something happens, and we become distant again. I will not intrude in your life, because I don't really believe you want me in it." He looked at her, almost paralysed, and her voice was passionate and low. "I _will_ _not_ impose on you, Gilbert, and I will not push myself into your world."

Gilbert stood to his feet quickly, and walked to the fireplace. Suddenly he turned on her in fury. "Anne, you are already in my world. Do you really not see that?"

"But not by your _choice_!"

At this he snapped. "No! _Not_ by my choice! By _my choice_ I cut myself off from everything and everyone I ever knew back home. I chose to neglect my family, my friends, I chose to work myself so hard that I wouldn't feel anything anymore. I don't think I could have made worse choices, to be honest. So no, I didn't choose for you to come here. But that doesn't mean that I'm sorry you are here now." Anne stared up at him in shock. She watched him rake his hand through his brown hair. "Look, you said it yourself, that we can't go back. But I'm _in_ your world now, and you're in _mine_." He suddenly drew back, realising just how much he had said. Clamping his mouth shut, he dropped to his chair with a tired look, only to see the tears pooling in her eyes. He breathed deeply. "And I'm not sorry."

Gilbert watched her visibly try to calm herself, her jaw clenched tightly, and he put his head in his hands. He should have known it was unwise to enter into an argument while they were both unwell- probably prompting them to say things they might later wish they hadn't. He'd been waiting for her to order him to go, for her to storm from the room- but as had been happening since the moment she arrived in the Glen, she surprised him again.

"I'm not sorry either," she said faintly, and his heart seemed to stop at the tear that fell down her cheek. His eyes followed it as it dropped onto her gown, and he looked up from it dumbly.

"You're not?"

"No." The smile she gave him was tentative, and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

For long minutes the two of them sat in silence, until a curious Susan came to see what the matter was. She looked between the quiet pair, staring oddly at Anne. Gilbert came back to earth guiltily, as she left the room to fetch his belongings. She returned to find the two of them unnervingly speechless, and looking anywhere but at the other.

"I should let you go back to bed," Gilbert said, at last.

Anne shivered, her arms folded. "You should do the same."

He stood to his feet then, stretching sore muscles and yawning.

Anne tried to hide the blush that seemed to start at her slippered feet, watching Gilbert pull on his coat. She tried to catch her breath, feeling the urge to smooth his collar down as he was doing, to stroke the cheeks that were too flushed with the cold. She swallowed suddenly. His hands had been so gentle as he examined her, and she had been afraid to look up to see his hazel eyes so close to her own. Afraid that he would see, afraid that the situation between them would become even more complicated than it was now.

He helped her to her feet, and there was an odd hesitancy in him as he bent to pick up his bag and cleared his throat. When her grey eyes came up to meet his, he sighed.

"I don't think we need to go over the past again. But I don't understand why you keep trying to tell me that I don't owe you anything." Gilbert's cheeks reddened, and he continued slowly. "Anything I owe to you, I owe to a- a friend." At those words he saw her forehead suddenly crease, and her breath caught. She didn't speak for a moment, desperately trying not to cry. She could only nod, as a tear fell down her cheek.

Gilbert couldn't quite meet her grey eyes, feeling as if he was intruding on some private moment. He cleared his throat again, trying not to wince himself. "You'll call me if you start feeling any worse?" he asked gently.

"I will," she whispered and tried to smile. "And- thank you."

At her last words Gilbert looked up, and he held her gaze for a long moment before stepping away. Susan appeared out of nowhere with a basket of food, telling him stiffly that she would be in through the week to pay Anne's bill. To his credit, he only nodded, and placed his hat on his head. He smiled at her, and then he was gone.

Ten minutes later, Susan came into the sitting room to see Anne seated on the sofa, with the evidence of tears on her face. She lowered herself to sit beside her and wiped her work-worn hands on her apron.

After a moment, Susan spoke. "Anne, is there something that I need to know about Doctor Blythe?"

Anne looked up at Susan in shock. "Whatever do you mean?"

Susan's voice was unaccountably brittle. "Any time he comes here he seems to upset you."

"Susan, no-" Anne faltered, now seeing how her housekeeper must view the situation. "It's not like that."

"I shouldn't have gone to him at all!" Susan clucked anxiously. "There's a new doctor at Lowbridge I can try."

Anne drew in a shaking breath. "No, Susan. You did right to call Gilbert. It's just that we- we have a very complicated past."

She stood up then, assisted by the older woman, whose brow was lowered in concern. In some frustration Susan sighed. "What kind of complications?"

Anne's long red braid swung around her shoulders as she turned, and Susan was surprised to see the curious smile on her face. "If you can name it, Susan, we've probably complicated it."

A short time later, and Anne was tucked back up in bed with a fresh cup of tea, and the warm fire burning in the grate. Susan was smoothing the counterpane with a capable hand, when she bent down to pick up a clean handkerchief from the floor that she knew was not Anne's. She hesitated before placing the neatly folded cloth on Anne's bedside table.

"It's probably not my place to say this, but the doctor shouldn't come into your home as familiarly as he does. I'm not saying he does it on purpose, but it isn't quite proper."

Anne's cheeks whitened, however to Susan's surprise, she gave a dry smile then. "There's the rub, Susan dear. I'm afraid we were never terribly good at being proper."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

It was a bright winter's afternoon when Gilbert drove out on the shore road towards the harbour, and Owen Ford's house. To his surprise it had been an uneventful day- and here he gave a slight chuckle. As Andrew could well attest, often Gilbert's plans to socialise would be interrupted when Mrs Leary would call, telling him over the phone in her monotone voice that so-and-so needed their boil lanced, and that she'd told them he'd be right on his way.

However, no one had called today. He'd spent the morning at home, in fact, chopping wood for the week and attempting one of his mother's easier recipes. The coffee cake was a little uneven, but he still sat it on the plate with a proud look. He supposed as Mrs Leary never baked, that it was still the best cake that had been cooked in the house- while he had been living there, at least. A big box of preserves had arrived from his mother only the week before, and in that she had added some of her handwritten notes and recipes. Gilbert went to get cleaned up with a slight smile. He'd approached her trepidatiously the day before he went back, expecting her to overreact, however, Sonia Blythe had appeared very calm at first- as if her thirty-one-year-old mostly absent son came to her asking for recipes every day. The hysterical, smothering hug she gave him at the end somewhat gave her away, and he couldn't help but laugh- especially later when he found jars of apple jelly in his suitcase that he hadn't remembered packing from Avonlea.

Coming down the hill, Gilbert looked appreciatively at the view of the gulf, now frozen over with white as far as the eye could see. The roads remained clear, for which Gilbert was eternally grateful- last winter's adventures with the sleigh had made him miss the hospital at times, and at the same time grateful that Jeremy wasn't here to see him battling the elements.

He found the little white house that had often intrigued him nestled by a small wood, and as he came to the end of the row of Lombardy polars he was met by a young fellow who doffed his cap at the doctor and promised to care for the horse in the barn. He was further surprised at being met at the door by a trim maid who took his coat and hat, ushering him into the warm living room where Owen's guests had gathered.

Owen strode up to shake his hand immediately. "Glad you could join us, Blythe. There are a few people you haven't met, so come and I'll introduce you."

All around the room was the sound of pleasant conversation and the crackle of the wide fireplace. He could see Andrew talking with several gentlemen in one corner, and an older woman sitting in the comfortable sofas surrounded by ladies, including Penny- and Anne. Penny greeted him calmly, however it was Anne who drew his attention. She was wearing a pale grey gown, the lightest he had seen her in, of late, and talking with the older lady. Owen saw the direction of his gaze, and moved towards the pair, motioning for Gilbert to follow him.

"Miss Shirley, if you will excuse the interruption; Gilbert, may I introduce my Aunt Selena to you, my father's younger sister." His aunt was very like Owen, tall, dark haired and dark-eyed. In her face was keen intelligence, and Gilbert bowed to her courteously. "Aunt Selena, this is Doctor Gilbert Blythe."

She gave him a piercing look and must have liked what she had seen, since she smiled and gestured to the lounge next to Anne, and Gilbert sat down as they continued to talk. Gilbert shot Anne a quick look and was pleased to see her smile back at him. She'd done her hair differently- a cascade of sleek red curls fell over one shoulder, artfully braided on her crown. The effect was beautiful, he found himself thinking absently. He suddenly became aware that Anne was giving him an amused glance, her grey eyes twinkling, and realised he had not been paying attention to the discussion.

"Thankfully Owen listened to reason, would you believe, Doctor Blythe, that the dear boy didn't have a sideboard in here, nor any mirrors?"

Owen stood by his aunt with a smile on his face. "The interior was very worn by the time I acquired the house, Gilbert, it was necessary to start again, in many ways." He gestured to the floor beneath them, at the brightly coloured oriental carpet. "This I managed to find in London last year- My publisher insisted that I visit the warehouses with him one day, and I was fortunate enough to find this." His look was warm, and he gave his Aunt a smile. "The chandeliers were sourced by my aunt's decorator in Ottowa."

Gilbert looked around at the room, the afternoon winter sunshine coming through the forest green drapes, the red satin-brocade furniture tastefully arranged in the room. The overall effect was modern and elegant, and yet he looked around, wondering what it must have been like before. He turned to hear him speak again.

"I plan to have someone come to do the upper story in the springtime, to bring it up to date with the rest of the house. The gardens require some work as well- I wish to have a bower fit for a queen," he said lightly. An odd shadowed look came across his face at that moment, and Gilbert saw Anne gave him a curious glance. In the silence that followed, when Owen's aunt excused herself to check on the menu, Gilbert bent closer to her.

"You've been well?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't call you, so I must have been, mustn't I? On that note, how were _you_?"

He chuckled. "Fine- although Mrs Leary refused to come to the house the next day, as I was sick."

Anne sat back in bewilderment. "Your housekeeper stayed away while you were ill?" At his grin, Anne studied him thoughtfully. "Gilbert, if she is so hard to deal with, why on earth do you keep her on?"

He shrugged. "I'm hardly the ideal person to work for. You never know when I'll be at home, or when I'm going to be called out- and I often need to eat on the run. The tea room and the bakery often see me tearing in, and they wrap the food for me to take before I even ask for it."

Anne smiled. "And I suppose a doctor's laundry would be a challenge as well."

Gilbert laughed. "Yes. So if she is willing to do that, the cleaning and the occasional meal, I can handle the rest." He was silent for a moment and then continued offhand. "Actually, it was seeing you in your cottage- what did you call it?"

"Rosewood cottage," Anne said cheerfully. "It's named after the tangle of roses in the garden- all stems and thorns. In the spring I hope to make them bloom again."

Gilbert made himself more comfortable. "You were more at home in the cottage after a month than I was in my house after over a year- and it made me realise I needed to do a bit more at my house." Anne's auburn eyebrows rose, and he grinned sheepishly. "I'd really not unpacked. It needed to be made a home- and Mrs Leary wouldn't do that. So I'm trying to. I even made a cake today."

Her look was surprised, and she laughed. "Oh, well done, Gil! I did attempt to teach you to make bread years ago, you know."

"And I still can't do it. That's why the bakery knows my order." He watched Owen now in discussion with Penny and one of the gentlemen from the bank, and smiled. "Mother is coming with Dad in a few weeks time- I expect that she will take over the house for a week or so." Some laughter went out of Anne's face then, and she stilled shaking hands in her lap. Gilbert did not notice this and continued. "You might see them when they come. This was where my mother grew up."

Anne nodded, quietly drawing in a long breath. "I did see them in passing at the Christmas service back in Avonlea."

Gilbert now seemed to grow uncomfortable then. "Over the last few years I didn't get back home much. In Kingsport I couldn't afford to come back often- and in Montreal I was too busy."

Anne turned to look at him. "You did say that."

"You probably saw my parents more than I did, in fact."

Anne swallowed. "Well- actually, it's been awhile." She faltered then. "They- they came to Marilla's funeral. I was very grateful that they came."

"I wish I had known about it," he said slowly. "It's my own fault that I didn't, though."

Anne looked at him in bewilderment. "Gilbert, I-" Her brow lowered in confusion. "Do you ever feel like something changed in Avonlea?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "How didn't you know what happened to me?" He looked down to see the look in her grey eyes and flinched. " _Everyone_ knew. We lived in a gossiping town- a town where everyone knew each others business. But no one knew where you were- and you didn't know about the accident. Do you ever wonder what changed?"

Gilbert's look was hunted then. "Anne, I don't think anything did." He paused with difficulty. "I think it's about you and me."

Anne shrank back. "What do you mean?"

Gilbert cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "I think no one knew what to do with two best friends who suddenly didn't speak to each other."

Anne drew in a shaking breath. "But- but over time-"

"Over time we didn't go home," he said in a brittle tone. "We proved to those who cared about us that we couldn't go back to normal. And no one knew what to say about it."

Anne's brow creased, and he saw with horror that tears were gathering. "And this is _exactly_ why you and I shouldn't talk like this," he said, giving a sigh of exasperation at himself, and spoke in a more audible voice. "Miss Shirley, would you care to see the view of the shore from the window?"

He helped her to her feet, and the two of them crossed slowly to the window that overlooked the harbour. To the rest of the room they appeared engrossed in the view, however, Gilbert folded his arms, staring outward, looking over the gardens heaped with snow.

"Tangled rose bushes here too," he muttered. "What is it with the gardens here?"

Anne sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. It's not necessary to keep bringing things up. But it's so strange- and there are times when Avonlea doesn't seem like home anymore."

Gilbert nodded. "It's like that for me too." He gave her a curious look. "I suppose when you decide what to do with the house, you could go anywhere- make a new home," he said.

Her lips curved into a sad smile. "I could. I've thought about it." She looked out on the harbour, the late afternoon light glistening on the ice of the harbour. "Phil wants me to come to Kingsport."

Gilbert's jaw dropped. "Kingsport?"

"We were there together for four years. She thinks I might need somewhere familiar- with better hospitals." She chuckled, not seeing the look of shock that crossed his face. "And Stella wants me in Boston, she believes I am wasted as a struggling country schoolmarm. She says that wants me to struggle with her in the city. Di wants me back home, and Susan wants me to go to bed earlier."

At this, he smiled. "And what do you want?"

Anne's gaze turned to the window. "I want to be happy," she said simply. "For now that is here. However, I do think I need to talk to Mr Winston about the sale of Green Gables in a few months time."

Gilbert's arms were folded, studiously watching the fir trees move in the light wind. "Not right now?"

"I need to- to clear out all of the rooms," she said, her voice carefully without emotion. "The furniture will be sold, and I need to deal with- with the family's belongings. I was thinking it would be best to do that over the summer."

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Andrew can do a lot of things by mail. He'll be happy to help."

Anne smiled, regaining some of her poise. "I think I will need a lawyer, especially if I am dealing with Mr Sloane. Should we warn Mr Winston whom he could be dealing with?"

He laughed, seeing his friend approach now. "No, I think we can let that be a surprise for him. You can ask him about it now."

* * *

Owen's cook had prepared a sumptuous feast for the ten or so guests he had invited, and they were charmed with the elegant dining room laid with silver and crystal. Anne found herself sitting between Owen and Penny, and across from a gentleman who introduced himself as Mr Ford's elusive editor, who had come to the Glen for a week to work with Owen on a manuscript. Owen leant over to speak to Anne, with one eye on the solemn gentleman.

"Mr Winters is a gem, Miss Shirley. He can take a hundred of my best words and cut them down to twenty, and then he has the temerity to ask me to expand on my work."

Mr Winters cleared his throat sheepishly. "Come now, that's surely an exaggeration, old fellow."

"I think you would have edited Shakespeare, Samuel."

To Anne's surprise, the gentleman laughed. "You don't think Antony and Cleopatra could have used some trimming?"

Owen smiled. "Perhaps so. Don't ask me to be responsible for something like that, though." He turned to Anne then, amused. "I dreamt of writing novels, Miss Shirley- I did not understand that it would entail me arguing phraseology in dim rooms filled with smoke."

Mr Winters coughed slightly. "Owen, you'll have Miss Shirley believe that I am a murderer of words."

Anne smiled. "I do understand, Mr Winters. Every artist needs someone to critique and enhance their work."

Gilbert had been watching Anne carefully through this. She'd never mentioned her own work, he noticed, and he found himself wondering what had stopped her from writing. She'd been writing through college- and she'd been published only months before they'd graduated. He found himself absently eating the carefully prepared meal, prepared by a French cook, so Owen had said. He wasn't foolish enough to think it had anything to do with him; of course she had written after the disastrous evening in the orchard. Not after Redmond though, she'd said. Gilbert placed his fork down with a sigh. He remembered them teaching, when he would find her with odd scraps of paper on her person, ink stains on her slim fingers. And even further back, when he once came upon her in a sunlit glade- sitting against a tree, a notebook in one hand, and her shoulder-length red hair blowing in the breeze. He'd been far enough away for her not to see him immediately, and his breath caught, remembering the pull he had felt toward her then- the way his stomach had felt yanked to the top of the tallest tree, and thrown to earth in the same moment. He'd not felt that in- _how_ long?

Suddenly, his middle seemed to drop again as he realised that she was looking at him curiously, and that Penny was trying to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, Penny. What were you saying?" Inside he was kicking himself- it was this that had caused Andrew to call him absent-minded recently. He'd never been this scattered before.

Penny smiled at him. "You are distant lately, Gilbert. Is anything bothering you?"

He took up the water glass beside him. "Not at all."

Penny folded her napkin, and placed it down beside her, her voice soft. "You know, I did find myself wondering if perhaps your heart wasn't in Four Winds anymore."

Gilbert turned to her in shock. "Why- why would you think that?"

She smiled apologetically. "Forgive me if that was offensive. For the last few months, you have seemed- distracted. I suppose I wondered if you missed working in a hospital."

Gilbert's look was frank. "No- I- I don't think I've been happier here. The practice is going well, I think. I've had some interesting cases, some significant successes, and I know that I love the country practice. I don't miss the hospital at all."

Penny tried to smile. "Nor the city?"

Gilbert chuckled. "I grew up in a town smaller than this one- I was a farm boy. To me, this is more natural than Montreal ever was."

Penny looked across at her brother who was talking to Owen's Aunt, her eyes regretful. She drew in a breath and turned back to him with a gentle look. "That's wonderful, Gilbert. Then this is where you belong."

* * *

Later that evening, while the ladies sat in front of the fire talking and being served tea, Owen and the gentlemen went outside with cigars for a time, while he showed them the ideas he had for the landscaping in the spring. Gilbert breathed in the fresh air with relief, and wandered down to the little brook, the edges now frozen under birches bare. To his surprise, Owen had wandered from the group as well and now stood looking up the brook, towards the old grey house surrounded by willows.

"I was coming to see you earlier, Gilbert, however, I needed to postpone my visit, with my editor here." Owen said lightly.

Gilbert turned to him, his manner calm. "Oh?"

In the cool night air, the smoke from the cigar curled upwards, and Owen's face was rigid. "Is it true?"

"Is _what_ true?"

"Is she not married?"

Gilbert exhaled. "She is not married any longer. Her husband is dead."

Owen stilled. " _Dick Moore_ is dead."

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "Yes."

Owen swore, walking away, only to come back a minute later, his look shuttered. "And the man I met wasn't her husband."

"No. It was his cousin."

The anger in him seemed to explode, and Gilbert stood, his arms folded across his chest, while Owen paced.

"So she gave the _best_ years of her life to someone who had _no_ claim on her?"

Gilbert gave a weary sigh. "She didn't know, Owen."

Owen was scornful. "And the reason why no one figured it out until a doctor just out of medical school came here? Was there no one competent enough to figure it out before then?"

Gilbert's eyes flashed. "Look, a decade ago, there was no one outside a city hospital who would know what to do in that situation. The doctors here did the best they could- and she had no money to take him to anyone else."

Owen's handsome face set like flint, and he breathed deeply. "Still, she's free now." He turned to Gilbert, his eyes sharp. "Where did she go? No one seems to know- or no one is willing to say."

Gilbert met his glance evenly. "I don't know."

"You don't know, or you won't tell me?"

" _I don't know_." Gilbert turned to glance at the shadowy house in the distance. "Surely you've looked yourself?"

Owen gave a bark of laughter. "Of course I have. In between book tours and engagements, I've been looking everywhere for her. Her family over the harbour appear to have vanished, and no one from here knows- although there are plenty of rumours going around. Some of which concern _you_."

At this Gilbert turned to him, fury radiating from him. "I hope you aren't insinuating what I think you are, Ford."

Owen glanced up and surrendered. "Of course not. I know she wouldn't do that." He kicked a rock at his feet and scowled. "She loves _me_. And now she's God-knows-where, all alone, and I need to find her." He turned to look up at his house, defeated. "I bought this for _her_. I came here to find _her_. I told her to come with me, but she wouldn't leave him. She refused to abandon a man who should have been left in an asylum."

Gilbert looked at him in disgust. "Leslie did what she had to do- she stuck by what she thought was right, regardless of the cost, and she found out the truth because she had the courage to do what was necessary. And I don't know where she is, but I would guess that she is thriving. If she didn't give up through the hell she'd been through, then she wouldn't give up just because she was alone."

Owen ground the end of his cigar into the damp ground and raised a hand to roughly wipe his eyes. "No. She wouldn't." He turned back to Gilbert. "You say you don't know. Fine. I accept that. But if you ever find out anything, if you ever hear from your contacts in the hospital-"

"That's betraying patient confidentiality!" Gilbert shot back at him.

"Dick was your patient, not _her_." Owen then sighed, raking his dark hair from his forehead. "Look, Gilbert, I'm begging you. I know that you don't like me. But pretend that there's some shred of romance in that cold-blooded, clinical heart you have- imagine there was someone that you loved more than life itself- and tell me you wouldn't do whatever it takes to be with her."

At this Gilbert's face flushed, and he had to force himself not to look back at the house. "You've got an odd way of trying to win people over, Ford."

Owen turned to him, a brittle smile on his face. "Maybe. I promise that I'm going to keep looking for her."

The doctor nodded his hands in his pockets. "You do that."

"Listen, could you give me a few minutes?" Owen rubbed his face tiredly. "I just need to-"

Gilbert put his hand up. "I'll tell them you'll in soon."

"You're a good fellow, Blythe."

Gilbert turned to walk up the sandstone step, his teeth clenched, remembering how Owen had fawned over Anne. He supposed that he'd _better_ be a good fellow- since a good fellow would hardly strangle the host.

* * *

By the time the gentlemen joined the women for a pleasant evening's discussion and merriment, Owen was back to his usual hospitable self. Gilbert had seen that Anne was looking rather tired, and had a quick word with Andrew- who was watching Penny laugh and talk happily with the other ladies of the party. Andrew was happy to stay while his sister was having a good time, and Gilbert turned to offer to drive Anne home early. She accepted with evident relief, and the two of them were farewelled pleasantly by Owen. Gilbert's smile was rather fixed when Owen insisted on handing Anne into the buggy himself, pausing to kiss her gloved hand as he invited her to come again. He was wanted inside then, and Gilbert turned courteously to make sure Anne was comfortable.

Anne sighed, content to be leaving early. "Thank you, Gilbert. I was trying to get schoolwork done for the week today, and neglected the rest that Susan was trying to make me have."

"Well, I had a nap- it's the only reason I'm awake now."

Anne paled. "Wait, Gil, I thought you wanted to leave early- you didn't need to for my sake."

"I _did_ need to leave. The incense burning in that room was making my eyes water."

She smiled then, as the buggy turned from the gate. "Mr Ford's aunt insisted that it would promote a congenial atmosphere. I'm not sure that it did, really."

Gilbert's laugh was sardonic. "No. It just used up the oxygen in the room faster."

Anne gave him a curious look. "You _do_ seem a little on edge tonight, Gilbert. Are you so dependent on free flowing oxygen then?"

He chuckled. "No more so than anyone else." He pushed his hat further down on his brown head then. "It's nothing, really. Well, nothing I can fix," he said slowly. "And I can't talk about it either- because it involves a patient of mine."

Anne nodded, watching the starlight move in a wide arc above the harbour. "Patient confidentiality. I understand." He was surprised when she laughed, and turned to see her untroubled face in the dimness. "You know, I had a terrible time getting my notes from the specialists I saw about my injury. They didn't like to release them- and I was told that they were private."

Gilbert grinned. "I see. Confidential to your doctors only?"

"Exactly. I did manage to convince them in the end- I'm not sure just what they thought I would do with them."

She turned in her seat at the top of the hill, and Gilbert did likewise, with a smirk. "Steady on, you lost a hat doing that once, remember." He pulled the horse up, and the two of them looked out on the harbour, as a crescent moon was beginning to rise.

"I wanted to see the lights of the house- look how brilliantly it is lit up, even at this distance!"

"That'll be all the chandeliers."

Anne turned back as Gilbert got the horse moving again, and sighed. "I wonder what it looked like before."

Gilbert looked at her sharply. "Yes, I thought that too."

"It must have been a lovely home-" here she stopped apologetically. "Not that it isn't lovely now, only it is so new and elegant. It doesn't seem to match the soul of the house, does it?"

Gilbert turned to her with a surprised smile. "Now that sounds like you again." She seemed to start at that, and he turned back to the front. "I'm sorry, I interrupted you."

Anne smiled. "He told me that his grandfather built it for his grandmother. I suppose I wonder what is left of what he built." She said slowly.

Gilbert turned the buggy toward Anne's home. "There must be something. Ford's a fairly sentimental fellow, after all."

When they arrived at the cottage, Gilbert walked her up to the front door.

"Well, thank you for getting me out of there early," he said bluntly, making her laugh.

"And thank you for the same." Anne put her hand on the door, and paused then, her words deliberate. "It's strange- there is something about that house, isn't there?"

Gilbert stopped. "What do you mean?"

Anne was thoughtful. "Like something out of a dream- something I should recognise." He found himself studying the way her dove grey scarf was wound around her throat, and then into her intelligent eyes. "It's rather like the reverse of a haunting."

He grinned at her then, finding himself in the middle of a conversation that could have happened with her ten years ago. "Can you explain that to me?"

Anne chuckled. "A ghost is meant to haunt a place- here, it's rather like the place is the thing doing the haunting."

Gilbert's look was odd. "I know what you mean. I felt that way when I moved here. Curious, isn't it?"

Anne smiled, making no move to open the door yet. "It is." She laughed then. "Goodness, what kind of enchanted shore have we washed up on, Doctor Blythe? Is it populated by fairies, or do you think is there magic here that will prevent us from leaving?"

Gilbert pulled the scarf tighter around his own neck, and shrugged. "Well, it was very prosaic work that brought both of us here. I suppose it remains to be seen what kind of magic lies beneath the surface."

He stepped back as Susan opened the door, and tipped his hat to her. "I'll see you later, Anne."

* * *

As Susan took her coat and ushered her inside, Anne let out a long breath, hearing the sound of the buggy moving down the road.

"Did you have a nice time tonight, Anne dear? I thought Mr Winston was bringing you home."

Anne drew in a deep breath, her cheeks slightly flushed. "He was- although he and Penny wish to stay later, I believe. Doctor Blythe wished to leave early. And it was a very pleasant evening."

Susan cleared her throat. "Some flowers came for you this evening, from Mr Ford himself."

Anne looked at her in bewilderment. "But Susan, why on earth would he do that tonight?"

Susan shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know, Anne. But I rather doubt we've seen the last of Mr Ford."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

February was a month of storms and snow, and Anne was grateful to wake up on a Saturday morning, secure in the knowledge that that day she would not need to brave the elements. Susan had been fussing and clucking over Anne's busyness, and had insisted on allowing her to sleep as late as she wished, serving her breakfast in bed. In vain Anne protested that she would much rather sit in the kitchen with Susan- a problem that was solved by Susan taking her tea in Anne's room. Anne surrendered to the housekeeper's wishes, seeing in her stern brown eyes the intent to call the doctor if she felt it necessary.

Not wanting another impromptu visit from Gilbert prompted by Susan's panic, Anne sat up in bed on this morning like a queen surrounded by her pillows, while Susan perused the paper, reading out the local news. Susan clucked over the Glen notes- Mrs Marshall Elliot was having her husband's two nephews come to stay for a month, and Carter Flagg's store would now be importing a special brand of fabric from Charlottetown. The price of butter had gone up, and Valentines Day had been celebrated by a mysterious ode from _L_ to _M_ , which a scandalised Susan read out to Anne, who only laughed.

"Anne dearie, I don't know what the editor is thinking to be printing this sort of rubbish-"

Anne smiled. "Oh, Susan, judging by the lines, I am guessing that the poet is fourteen or fifteen, and his lady is most likely just as young. It's rather sweet, in fact."

Susan had scoffed at such nonsense, however as Anne rose to go about her morning, she could not keep a smile from her face- thinking of strawberry apples, pink candy hearts and tissue paper roses. She gave a little sigh and settled down in the cosy sitting room to read for the morning with a smile. It was good to know that romance was very much alive in the world.

It was nearing eleven in the morning when Anne looked up from her book at a knock on the door. At the voices in the entry, Anne rose to investigate, and Susan soon ushered in a slightly damp Lizzie, Andrew and Penny Winston. Lizzie was beside herself with excitement to see her beautiful teacher's home, and Penny rather apologetically explained that Andrew suggested that they all come, while he saw Anne about some contracts. Anne brushed aside Penny's concerns with a big smile, inviting them all to come into the warm lounge room. After a brief consultation with Susan, Anne extended an invitation to the family to stay for lunch, adding that she and Susan were positively giddy at the idea of good company. While Susan did not exactly convey the notion of giddiness, her satisfied look more than convinced Penny and Andrew that it was a wonderful idea. Lizzie sat in the big armchair next to Anne chattering non-stop, and at Penny's attempt to quieten her, Anne smiled at the younger woman, her eyes twinkling.

"I was just the same, I'm afraid- I almost drove Marilla distracted in the first few months of having me."

Penny chuckled. "So the proverb that children should be seen and not heard?"

"It never worked with me, no," Anne said with a shrug. "I did learn to control it better when I was older."

Lizzie piped up brightly then. "You do talk an awful lot in school, Miss Shirley."

Anne only laughed at her father's stern look. "I do, Lizzie. Otherwise, how would I teach you?"

While Penny and Lizzie amused themselves with Anne's welcoming bookshelves, Andrew sat down at the desk with Anne to discuss the possibility of selling Green Gables, the deeds to the house in front of him.

"Well, the timing is up to you of course- I can begin preparing paperwork now," he said thoughtfully. "Anne, forgive me if this is a difficult subject- but I understand this is your family home. Are you quite sure you wish to sell? Have you considered renting it?"

Anne nodded. "I have- and I do love my home dearly- but to be honest, I don't believe I will be able to live there again." She smiled at Andrew. "The house and farm are far too much for me to care for on my own- and especially with regards to the old stairs. The time may come when I need to sell it- I would rather do it now when I have some time to prepare."

Andrew nodded. "I understand." Seeing that his family were well occupied for the present, Andrew studied Anne. He hadn't gotten far with Gilbert- perhaps _she_ might be a little easier…

"So you and Gilbert were in school together," he said easily. "What was he like back then?"

Anne smiled. "Very mischievous."

Andrew chuckled in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh, yes- he was notorious for it. And I had to work around the clock to keep up with him in school- we were always competitive."

"And so which of you is smarter?" Andrew teased.

"I like to think that we are evenly matched," Anne said brightly. "Although we work in very different fields now- perhaps we aren't able to compare."

Andrew decided to dig a little deeper. "He taught when you did, correct?"

Anne smiled. "Yes. When we became friends-"

"You weren't always?" he interrupted in surprise.

Anne hesitated. "No, not exactly. But after we left Queens we made it up- and we taught schools in adjacent towns for two years. We both earned our way through Redmond that way, and studied together as well."

Andrew looked at her curiously.

 _She was my best friend…. Best two years of my life, actually._

Gilbert's disjointed comments were starting to make more sense to him- and yet Anne Shirley herself remained an enigma. What on earth had happened between them?

"The two of you have quite the history, it seems."

He gave an unseen grin at the way her grey eyes flew open, and the way her hands moved nervously to smooth her black skirts. He'd had enough practice in talking with people who didn't wish to be forthcoming to know that she was ready to bolt, and he gave her a disarming smile. "All of these histories are so fascinating, aren't they? And to think that we would all meet up here in the Glen."

To his surprise, Anne gave a wry smile. "Yes. Timing can be a surprising thing, Mr Winston. It can also be quite diabolical."

Seeing her need to change the subject, his thoughts returned to business. "I'm glad you came to me now, it can take some time to get these in order. This way I can have them waiting for you when you need them."

While they were occupied doing so, the doorbell rang again.

Anne smiled at Lizzie's small whisper- "Miss Shirley's house is much busier than _ours_."

To her surprise, a bewildered Susan stepped in through the door, and behind her was Gilbert himself, his hat and coat over one arm.

Before the group had a chance to greet him, a squirming Lizzie whispered to her aunt, and Penny appealed to the housekeeper apologetically. "Miss Baker, I wondered if you would be so kind as to show us to the little girl's room?"

Susan was quick to take Lizzie's hand, and the three of them left the room, leaving behind at least two surprised people.

"Gil!" Andrew said, puzzled. "Did you know that we would be here?"

He gave an easy shrug. "Not till I got here, but it works brilliantly, I can tell you all at once." He turned to an oddly speechless Anne and gave her a grin. "I'm sorry for the abrupt arrival, but I just got a letter from Montreal- Jeremy is coming here in March."

Anne floundered for a moment, trying to understand. "Your friend from the hospital?"

Andrew was curious to see the way his friend was almost bouncing. When had he ever been so excited?

"Yes. Doctor Jeremy Barnes, Orthopaedic surgeon, resident of Montreal and my partner in crime through Redmond. _That_ Jeremy."

Anne found her voice then. "Well, that's wonderful for you, Gil."

Gilbert stopped suddenly, seeing the odd look on her face. "Anne, I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. He's coming here as my friend, of course, but I'd like to consult him about you."

At this, Gilbert saw the flash in her eyes before the only other person in the room had time to register it. Andrew was forgotten, and could only stare as the two of them began to argue.

"And just when were you planning on consulting me?" she asked.

"I'm talking to you now-"

"Gilbert John _Blythe_!" she said furiously. "Why on earth would you organise this without talking to me first? This is _completely_ unprofessional-"

"Anne, just listen to me!" he interrupted impatiently. "I know I did that badly just then, but I only got the letter ten minutes ago! He hasn't been able to come for the entire time I've been here, and I was so excited that I practically ran here to tell you."

Anne gritted her teeth, her eyes glittering. "Continue."

"I wanted to let you all know as soon as I could- Andrew hasn't met him, _you_ haven't met him- and he would have given us a run for our money at school. He tormented more people at school that _I_ did- you'll like him."

She glared at him. "I'm sure I will- _if_ I am not having unwarranted medical appointments scheduled for me _without my permission_! And telling me about it in front of others, no less!"

Gilbert's startled glance swung to Andrew, who settled back into his chair with a wicked grin. "Oh, don't mind me, Gil, this is wonderfully entertaining. Carry on."

Gilbert shot him a scowl and turned back to Anne. "Look, it _was_ unprofessional of me to just barge ahead. I'm honestly sorry about that. And of course you have the final say- I would never think of doing it without your permission. I was just over the moon that he could even come. He's been trying to get away for months. But I want you to meet him anyway- and I want him to meet Andrew, which is why I blurted the whole thing out as soon as I got here."

"And you couldn't have slowed yourself down to talk to me first?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Well, then you would have had to wait for my news _longer_."

Unable to help herself, Anne gave him an amused look and sat back down on the sofa. "You know, sometimes I think you haven't changed at all, Gilbert. Now, please explain why it is that you want him to see me? I'm fine."

Gilbert sat down as well. "You are. But you have to understand that Jeremy is fast becoming one of the top orthopaedic surgeons in Canada- he's on his way to Kingsport to attend a conference in a few weeks time. That's why he's coming. He's coming across for a few days to see the island- we went all the way through medical school together, and then were in Montreal for two years. I haven't seen him since then- and he's still mad that I left. And to have him actually coming here, staying in the same town you are, when we could see if there's anything that could be done to make you better- it's an opportunity that I don't want you to miss."

"Gil, I have seen every doctor in Charlottetown- are you saying that someone off the island will be different?"

"In this case, Anne, yes," he said bluntly. "Montreal is a teaching hospital, they have access to the newest advances, and many of the universities feed directly into it. I doubt that you would find anyone who knows more than he does."

Anne sighed and crossed her arms. "Gilbert, forgive me for being sceptical, but I've _done_ this before. I don't think anyone could do better for me than you already are."

This made him grin wryly. "It's nice that you think so- but bones are not my area of expertise. If you want me to remove a brain tumour or operate on your thyroid, let me know."

She smiled and studied his hazel eyes, seeing how badly he wanted her to agree. "Alright then, how does this work?"

Gilbert's shoulders fell in relief. "It would be best to set up an appointment at my office. Jeremy already knows I have a case that I want him to look at- however, he doesn't know that it's you. Believe it or not, I did actually plan on talking to you first."

Anne looked at him, intrigued. "I don't see the problem, Gil; he couldn't know who I was, could he?"

If he hesitated briefly, Anne didn't notice. "No. But I thought I'd better grab some shreds of professional dignity to cover myself with."

This made Anne chuckle. "If we ignore today, then I have always found you professional, Gil. Now, I'm sure Andrew is tired of being entertained in this way-"

Andrew quirked an eyebrow. "I don't mind. I must say, Anne, I'm rather impressed at you putting him in his place."

Gilbert grinned. "It's about time you met Anne properly, Andrew. I'm just lucky she doesn't have a slate handy."

She narrowed her eyes at him then. "I still run a classroom, Gilbert. I can _find_ one. However, for now, it is almost lunchtime- and Susan has already laid a place for you if you have no other plans."

He accepted easily, and Anne left the room to assist in the kitchen. Andrew stood up from his chair, listening to the voices in the dining room and watching Gilbert thoughtfully. He crossed to look at the picture from the mantelpiece Gilbert had carefully lifted down- a much younger Anne standing with an older couple.

"Her parents?"

"Adoptive parents," Gilbert said absently. "They were brother and sister. It was taken just before we went to Queens."

Andrew gave a smile that Gilbert didn't see. "How old was she then?"

"Fifteen and a half."

Andrew was surprised at the exact answer and studied him. "You knew the family well then?"

He watched the young doctor shrug. "Not then, I didn't. A year afterwards, yes."

At this, Andrew shook his head, bewildered. "If you don't mind me saying so, Gil, I've not seen anything like the way the two of you talk to each other."

Gilbert spoke up sheepishly. "Look, today I jumped in too early, that was all. She was right. Nevertheless, she agreed to see Jeremy, despite my bungling it." To his shock, Gilbert chuckled. "It's funny. She would never have done that years ago."

"She wouldn't?"

"No, that would have resulted in a week long silent treatment." He shrugged and grinned. "We have a long history of discussing things- err- vehemently. I can assure you that barely registered as an argument."

A sudden shaft of insight hit Andrew at that moment, and he studied Gilbert as if he hadn't seen him before.

 _She was my best friend._

Eventually, Andrew found his voice. "Still, you've both grown up. You're not children anymore."

Gilbert snorted. "And thank God for that."

At this moment Anne came into the room to announce that lunch was being served. Andrew couldn't help but see the natural chemistry between the two of them and found himself shaking his head slightly in wonder.

"Mr Winston?" Anne repeated, with a mischievous smile. "Your family is waiting for you to join them."

He shook himself with a laugh. "I apologise, Anne. We're coming right now."

* * *

Susan was in her element at Anne's right-hand side, serving their guests with efficiency. Anne saw Gilbert talking with her cheerfully about her mother's health issues, and Andrew was moving between instructing his bouncing daughter to sit still and eat her meal, and talking with Anne. Penny alone was quiet, and Anne uneasily wondered if the younger woman was alright.

As she pushed the savoury stew around her plate, she swallowed. Mentally she was berating herself. What kind of person hoped that something had happened? She was being foolish- she had accepted that there was something between Gilbert and Penny from the beginning, and could see why he would care for her- she was loving and sweet. Penny had extended the hand of friendship to her as well- seemingly without any knowledge of who she had once been to Gilbert- and yet why should that matter? An old friend was merely that.

There had been a struggle within her about finding herself in the same community with them as time went on- and yet she had resolved to wait and see. It was possible that one day she would find herself not feeling anything- merely happy for her deservedly happy old _chum_. Her fingers shook then, and her knife clattered to the plate noisily. Anne gave a swift smile of apology to those who had jumped around the table, and drew in a deep breath, a wry chuckle underneath her calm exterior.

Clearly, that day was not today.

Andrew seemed to sense that Anne was distracted, and drew her into a conversation. "Gilbert was telling me a little about your adoptive parents, Anne. I'm sorry to hear that they are no longer with you."

Gilbert froze with concern at his friend's words until he saw Anne's smile. As he looked around the dining table, he noticed that all were now paying attention to the quiet conversation, including Susan- and Gilbert realised that Anne must not have shared much about Marilla's death with her either.

Andrew continued. "How long has it been?"

"Ten months," Anne said softly. "It doesn't seem possible that it's been so long."

He smiled understandingly. "I know what you mean. What was she like?"

At this, somehow Anne's grey eyes found Gilbert's. "She was- strong. Always strong. She didn't like to get emotional- didn't like to make a fuss of anything- but she cared very deeply about things."

To her surprise, Gilbert smiled retrospectively. "She hated anything in the house being out of place. And she was very protective of you, I remember. "

"She was about anyone she cared for- she was completely devoted to her home and family." Anne placed her napkin beside her plate, and her smile was wistful. "And she never encouraged me to settle- she wanted me to have all the opportunities that she never had, even when they took me far from home."

"You must miss her terribly," Penny said, her voice low.

Anne smiled, her eyes tearing up. "I do. Every day."

Lizzie had been silent for a little while, and Anne jumped slightly, seeing that Lizzy had left her seat to stand beside her.

"Who do you miss?"

Anne looked over her head to Andrew, who nodded at her gently.

"My- the woman who adopted me. She- she died last year." Anne smiled at her. "I miss her very much."

The little girl pressed herself into Anne's side, and the teacher wrapped her arm around her snugly. "I don't have a mother either," Lizzie said to her softly, not aware that the entire table was listening. "But I have Aunt Penny and Papa. Do you have people too?"

Penny and Andrew were by now wiping away unexpected tears, and over Lizzie's head, Anne met Gilbert's eyes again. Their gaze held this time, and just slightly, he nodded. Flushing, Anne's eyes went back to the child before her.

"I do, darling. I have Susan, who is my family now- and I have wonderful friends both near and far. I think that I am one very lucky girl, Lizzie- as are you."

Gilbert stood with the others at the end of the plentiful and delicious meal, and the group was ushered into the sitting room for dessert. Gilbert moved slowly, seeing Anne help Susan to clear the table of plates, and as he stood in the doorway he saw Anne give her beloved housekeeper a long hug. He smiled, watching Susan hastily wipe her nose, and shoo Anne towards the doorway where he stood. When she arrived, he met her look earnestly.

"Are you alright?"

Anne smiled. "You know, I really am. I have so much to be grateful for."

To her surprise, the smile Gilbert gave her was that of the boy she had known long ago- that of one kindred spirit meeting another. "We all do."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Anne stood at the doorway farewelling her guests. Andrew teased her about spending her whole day entertaining, and Anne laughed, saying that Susan would probably send her to bed after supper to make up for it. Andrew and Penny took a yawning Lizzie home- who was not yet so tired that she said she couldn't wait to tell Mirabelle Stuart where she had been all day.

Gilbert was the last to leave, and Anne couldn't quite cover her yawn.

"I'll take that as a hint, I think," he said, amused. "Maybe Susan's right. You do need sleep."

Anne rolled her eyes at him. "And who reminds you to go to bed, doctor? I can see the shadows under your own eyes."

Gilbert shrugged. "I just sleep when I need to. I was up with twins last night. Mr and Mrs Walton's first."

She smiled, shifting her walking stick to the other hand, as she often did when she had been standing for too long. Gilbert paused long enough to study her face. "Have you forgiven me yet for the debacle with Jeremy?"

This made her chuckle. "You're still expecting a five-year sentence, aren't you?"

He shrugged with a grin. "Maybe."

Anne's look was wry. "As long as this won't be an everyday occurrence, Gil- I really am quite well now. And I have been enjoying not being treated like an invalid. I'm not one."

"I know that- but if you were going to have someone look at it twelve months on, then Jeremy is the one to do that," Gilbert said practically. "And I'm glad he's coming. He's a lot of fun."

Anne smiled. "Then I look forward to meeting him."

* * *

It was late that night at the Winston house when Penny came into her brother's study, dim and lit only with the light from his desk lamp. She sat down on his sofa with a sigh. Andrew looked up from his paperwork, curious.

"Is everything alright?"

Penny shrugged. "Lizzie woke with a nightmare. She's asleep now."

Andrew looked at her curiously- Penny rarely came into his office to talk. After a minute, she spoke.

"How long has he been in love with her?"

Andrew's pen fell from suddenly limp fingers. "What do you mean?"

Penny gave a faint smile. "Drew, I know that you know what I'm talking about."

He stood up from his desk slowly and came to sit down beside her. "How did you know?"

At this Penny gave him an indulgent look. "Because I have _eyes_ , darling brother."

Andrew shot her a worried look. "Does that bother you?"

At this, she sighed, her voice low. "I won't pretend that I wasn't sorry, to begin with. I do like him. And I think that he liked me. But not the way he obviously cares for her."

Andrew let out a long breath, not knowing what to say. "I would guess ever since they were children."

Penny sat up, shocked. "So long?"

"Yes."

The siblings sat there quietly for some time.

"I'm guessing it's a long story."

"Longer than I know, I suspect."

Penny sighed. "Well, I'm glad I know now." She smiled then. "They do suit each other rather well, don't you think?"

Andrew chuckled. "I've been watching them- they're something else together." He tipped his head back to look at his baby sister. "Are _you_ alright?"

"Strangely, yes. Drew, did you know that I left someone to come here?" Penny asked quietly.

Andrew shot up in horror. "Pen, you didn't- you shouldn't have- why wouldn't you _tell_ me? Dad said it ended-"

Penny waved him off. "No, it did end, big brother. It needed to. Simon wanted to marry me as soon as he took over the family business- and I asked him to wait. I was only nineteen- and I didn't feel ready." She laid her head back on the sofa and sighed. "I asked him to wait a year so that I could come out here and help you- and he told me that if I left, that he knew I didn't really care and was done with me."

Andrew pulled her into a hug, his face sorrowful. "I'm so sorry- I would never have asked you to come if I'd known."

Penny smiled dryly. "And then I would have married someone who had no consideration for my family, or my own needs. It was a blessing in a rather good disguise, in fact. I'm glad I came- and I think I've grown a lot here." She gave him a candid look then. "A few weeks ago you asked me if I wanted to go home. Well- I do. I think it's time."

Andrew let out a deep breath. "Oh, Pen. You gave Lizzie and me four years- and I'm grateful. We wouldn't have made it through without you."

Penny smiled. "I'll start looking for a housekeeper for you, Drew- someone who will be good for Lizzie. I'm not leaving until you have one. I think that I'll plan on leaving in the spring." She stood up then, rubbing tired eyes.

"Pen? Are you alright? About Gilbert? He doesn't have to come around here if it makes you uncomfortable."

Penny's look was frank. "Andrew, it's fine. I'd miss him if he didn't come- and he's just what he's always been. A gentleman, and a good friend. I don't believe anything was ever going to happen between us- we want very different things. He belongs here, and I want to go home." She turned then, her look shrewd. "Do you think that after all this time they know?"

Andrew gave her an odd look. "Who?"

"Gilbert and Anne, you goose. Do they know that the other one cares?"

Andrew hedged for a minute. "What about Owen? Susan said he's been visiting occasionally."

Penny was instantly dismissive. "Mr Ford? I don't think so, Drew. Perhaps we should ask the two of them over more-"

Her brother stood up then, his face stern. "Penelope Margaret, we are not interfering. If it happens, it happens without our meddling."

Penny tossed her brown head, as she went to the door. "Everyone needs a little help, Andrew _Charles_. And if I remember correctly, you needed someone to help you when you brought Maddie home to Mother and Father."

Andrew grinned. "Maybe a little. Just- go easy. Things between them after all this time are a little- complicated. Don't go leaping into the middle of it."

Penny gave him a quick hug, after muttering something that sounded vaguely like " _Men_."

Andrew laughed then. "Just go to bed, Pen. You can scheme in the morning."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Sonia Blythe stepped onto the platform and into her son's arms with a glad cry. The day was cool and dry, and she pulled away then to study Gilbert carefully. Her brown eyes measured colour and weight, and the expression in the eyes that were so like her husband's. What she saw must have satisfied her, since she smiled.

"It's wonderful to see you, darling. I declare, your father becomes more restless each trip. I thought I would need to tie him to the seat this time."

Gilbert chuckled. "You didn't bring a book, Dad?"

John grinned. "You know I don't like sitting down- not when there are fences that need mending or cows to tend."

Sonia led the way to pick up the bags, rolling her eyes. "John, the cows will be fine without you. They might miss the bedtime stories you read to them each night, but George promised that he would care for them properly."

John Blythe grunted. "George overfeeds them. Still, a few days won't matter."

Gilbert picked up the bags with a grin. "Do you really read to them, dad?"

"Once- I did that _one_ time-" John protested.

As they drove through town, Sonia exclaimed over the changes since she had lived there- houses had sprung up, the main street that had changed locations. Gilbert smiled. He'd heard it all before, however, he took great pleasure in the knowledge that his family's roots extended deep into the Four Winds shore. They talked in contentment until Gilbert turned down a different route, his face carefully passive.

"You may not have been this way for a while. There's the schoolhouse over there- and the stone house next to it is Anne's cottage." The silence in the buggy was so complete that Gilbert flinched. He shot a look at his parents in time to see them exchange awkward glances, and sighed. "Mother, Dad, it's fine, it really is. We're all adults here."

Sonia cleared her throat. "Of course, Gilbert. How- how is Anne?"

He kept his glance on the road carefully. "She's very well. The townsfolk all adore her. She's dealing with everything better since Christmas, and she hasn't had a fall in some time, so hopefully, we've gotten to the root of that problem too. Anne's managing very well, actually- and her housekeeper guards her like a mother. She was a bit sick recently- hardly surprising in the wintertime." Gilbert somehow stopped himself from talking and almost groaned at his own stupidity. Why on earth did he need to bring _that_ up? "I mean, everyone was- I got sick too."

John somehow found his voice over his wife's silent communication and gave his son a grin. "Sounds like she's doing fine then. How's the practice?"

This seemed to bring Gilbert back to normal again, and he talked easily. "More than I can handle, at times. There's another doctor in Lowbridge, he and I can cover each other when necessary- and both of us are run off our feet. Not bad for the old pocketbook, though."

"That's good, son. It can take years to build trust in a community like this."

Gilbert chuckled. "I think it's all in the name- they trusted Uncle Dave."

Sonia smiled at this. "They certainly did. He would be so proud of you, darling."

* * *

As expected, Gilbert's mother took over the care of the household for the entire time that she was there. After several hours of finding herself superfluous, Mrs Leary stiffly announced that she may as well stay home for the week, and Sonia farewelled her sweetly, turning to growl at the way the house had been kept. She exclaimed, however, at the homey touches that Gilbert had added, and was pleased to see that he had unpacked the house at last.

Gilbert shook his head at his parents' impression of a holiday. His father had already mended the gate, patched a small leak in the washroom ceiling and fixed the rickety stairs leading to the house- all on the first two days he was there. In the afternoons John went out with Gilbert on his calls, both winning the hearts of the housewives with his old fashioned courtesy, and those of the menfolk with his knowledgeable conversation and ready, booming laugh.

On Sunday morning Gilbert pulled off his tie for the fourth time, frowning at the reflection in the mirror. What on earth was wrong with his hands this morning? He gave them a shake, trying to control the completely unreasonable swirling in his abdomen. They would have dinner that day with the Winstons, Andrew had made sure of that yesterday- and his parents had met the Winstons the year before- had loved them, in fact. No, he wasn't worried about that at all.

He threw first the tie and then himself on the bed, staring at the canopy. Andrew and Penny loved company, and often had guests over- Gilbert had met a good number of townsfolk through this. It was ridiculous to be twisted up worrying about who else would be there. He rubbed his face with a sigh. No, he knew what was bothering him.

Would Anne be there or not?

Gilbert sat up and looked out of the frosted window unseeingly. Oh, he wasn't worried for his own sake. He didn't mind. He'd found himself oddly flat when she wasn't there, in fact. For the last few weeks Penny had been inviting Anne over more often; Andrew had approved, saying how nice it was for Penny to have someone to talk to- and privately Gilbert thought that it was a good thing for Anne, as well. He'd grown used to her presence- and slowly he had started to forget that it had ever been strange. She appeared to be relaxing with him as well now. He found himself smiling faintly. It was odd, the knowledge that they had once had of each other, that was no longer complete now. He would have thought that would unsettle him.

She could still be proud, her eyes could still flash in anger, and every now and then the flicker of insecurity that he remembered would appear on her face. When she laughed he could see the girl he had known- yet with a steadiness and peace that utterly confounded him. Time and again, Gilbert had been floored by the way she allowed herself to be completely vulnerable with him now- and yet he'd almost laughed, seeing that she could still keep those distant who wished to become too close. At times he found himself watching her and was inexplicably _proud_ \- proud of the way she would hold her own against anything that came her way.

Gilbert got up from the bed with determination then. If Anne could tackle a new life, he could manage a tie. He abandoned the one that he had chosen and grabbed an old one he had worn in Redmond days. With the stubbornness that had made him the Cooper Prize winner, he wrangled his collar and got it done up at last. As he pulled on his jacket he paused. If he was honest, it was his parent's reactions that had him concerned- for which he knew that he was responsible for as well.

Gilbert heard his mother call him to breakfast, and with a last look at his reflection, he squared his shoulders. There was no sense in worrying now.

After all, by now he and Anne were becoming brilliant at handling the unexpected.

* * *

Gilbert drove to the Glen Presbyterian church that morning talking easily with his parents in the cold of the morning. As February had moved on, snow and frost seemed to cover everything. Homes were havens now warm with fire and colour, providing respite from the harsh whiteness of the outside world. As he turned into the church yard, Gilbert pointed out various people, including the Winstons who had just arrived. Lizzie ran to Gilbert quickly, followed by her aunt and father- who both greeted the Blythes affectionately.

As Gilbert ushered his parents through the door, he heard Anne's voice and saw her sitting in her accustomed seat beside Susan, and talking with a tall lady in front of them. At first, she caught his eye and smiled- and then the colour drained from her face. In shock, Gilbert looked behind him to see what had frightened her so- only to see his parents talking placidly with Andrew. His head whipped backwards, oblivious to the fact that he was blocking up the aisle, to see that she had lowered her head and that others were blocking her from sight now.

Gilbert's brow was furrowed as he stepped into his pew beside his mother, his mind working furiously. What was going on now? Surely she couldn't be worried about his parents- Anne was made of sterner stuff than that. They had always been gracious to her. He looked back to see that she was looking anywhere but the pew he was in, and that Susan was looking at her rather oddly too. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the front. He would find out after the service.

That day went down in Glen history as the one in which Reverend Toomey tumbled backwards onto the altar in the fourth point of his sermon, after a rather exciting thump of his fist against the wooden lectern. Through the commotion and a sea of well-meaning people trying to see, Gilbert had to wade to the front when his hysterical wife asked if Doctor Blythe could please be given some room to get through. Gilbert soon ascertained that the rotund fellow had merely lost his balance, although the whispers that instantly moved around the buzzing building included stroke, seizure and paralysis. After a few minutes, the minister was brought to his feet again to great applause. The choir was given instructions to begin the closing hymn, and Reverend Toomey's fifth point was never delivered, much to his disappointment. No one ever knew what they had missed.

When Gilbert looked around at the end of the service, he could not see Anne any longer. He checked with Andrew and Penny, who said that she had just left.

"I did ask her to come for dinner with us all today," Penny said with a puzzled look. "I thought she would enjoy that. However, she said that she had to leave. Perhaps you could still catch her outside?"

As casually as he could, he nodded and walked out into the cold, to see Anne being assisted into a small buggy by Susan. He strolled over towards them.

"I thought we might see you at the Winstons, Anne," he said lightly.

Anne seemed to flush at this. "Oh- Penny did ask me, but I thought you might wish to have some time alone with your parents. And we're going to a birthday party tonight as well."

Susan took the reins easily. "My niece is turning five, Doctor Blythe."

Gilbert graciously bowed. "I hope you both have a wonderful time." He turned to Anne and gave the chestnut horse a pat. "A new acquisition in time for winter?" he asked.

Anne seemed to relax a little then and chuckled. "A gift, in fact. Mrs Baker was horrified at us continuing to walk and insisted that we use this now that she is unable. Our little barn is just big enough for her- and I will admit that Guinevere is a gem."

Gilbert couldn't help a chuckle. "You named the horse Guinevere?"

Susan sighed. "I suggested Bess, a nice, civilised name."

Gilbert's eyes met Anne's, twinkling. "Guinevere has more scope for the imagination though."

Susan gave him a curious look. "That's what Anne said."

"Of course." He straightened up with a slight smile. "It looks like you might miss my parents on this visit then, Anne," he said, watching her carefully.

Anne flushed and looked down at him, an unexplainable look of regret in her grey eyes. "Please give them my best, Gilbert."

"I will." He stepped away then, tipping his hat at both ladies. "Have a nice time tonight."

Gilbert stood watching them go, his brow lowered thoughtfully. He was sure that there was more going on than he knew.

* * *

After a sumptuous dinner with the Winstons, the Blythes made their way back to Gilbert's house that afternoon, and Sonia began preparations for supper. Gilbert helped her silently in the kitchen while she mixed the pastry for her pie, and she watched her son curiously.

"We had a lovely time with your friends, Gilbert. Do you see them often?"

Gilbert seemed to perk up at this. "Several times a week, actually. They've been wonderful."

Sonia smiled. "I see. Lizzie has grown since we last saw her too- I thought she was going to talk your father's ear off."

Gilbert chuckled. "She does, sometimes. She's like a six-year-old Anne."

Sonia attempted to keep her face neutral at this, trying to work out the best way of approaching the subject. "I see. Well, her aunt has done a wonderful job with her."

"She has."

Sonia drew in a deep breath. "Penny is lovely, Gilbert."

At this, Gilbert froze infinitesimally. "Why do people keep saying it like that?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

His mother shook her head, trying to disarm the situation. "It was a comment, dear. She _is_."

"Yes, she is," he said deliberately. "And no, we are not together. Nor are we ever going to be."

Sonia looked apologetic. "Forgive me, dear, I should have been more direct in my question. As you say, you are an adult." She turned the pastry out on the floured board and began to knead. "A little more water I think dear, right in the centre." Gilbert did as she asked, while Sonia prayed for the right words to come. "She is a close friend of yours, and I only wondered-"

To her relief, she heard him chuckle. "I've had female friends before, mother, and I've never married any of them."

Sonia nodded, with a little sigh. "I know that." Gilbert busied himself peeling potatoes, and the two of them worked silently for a time. "Penny mentioned that she had invited Anne today."

She felt rather than saw him tense, her eyes carefully on the pastry she was working.

"Yes. She had a birthday party to attend tonight, and I thought she seemed a bit tired this morning."

"Of course, dear. Does she rest well? She was always as industrious as you were."

Gilbert shrugged. "I think so. I know that Susan worries if she becomes too tired."

"Her housekeeper?"

"Yes. She's very protective of her."

"So you said, dear." Here Sonia scowled, thumping the dough. "I only wish _yours_ looked after you so well."

Her son laughed. "Anne needs that more than I do, mother- I'm doing alright, I promise."

Sonia began to roll the pastry out now, carefully placing it into the pan. "Do you see a lot of Anne then?"

Gilbert straightened up. "You're certainly curious today, mother."

As she blew a piece of straight hair from her eyes, she turned to him, in some exasperation. "Dear, this has been a conversation we have avoided for six years now- and you said that it was alright to have it."

"It _is_ alright-"

Sonia sighed and turned to him, her face gentle. "Gilbert, when you came to us six months ago for information about Anne, I was deeply concerned. Concerned that you would be hurt, that you would find it impossible to be in the same town as she was. You refused to discuss her all those years- and so we didn't. Not until she was so badly hurt did I write."

Gilbert looked at her in dawning horror. "You wrote to me about it?"

Sonia's jaw clenched, and she placed down the knife she had been trimming the pastry with. She turned to him, and he flinched at the hurt in her brown eyes. "I did, Gilbert. You didn't read it though, did you?"

He swallowed. "I did read your letters, mother- I just- I skipped anything that talked about people from home."

Sonia's eyes flashed. "I _promised_ that I would not mention her to you- and yet you didn't read six years worth of my letters out of concern that I wouldn't keep my word?"

Gilbert's hands came up to rub his face, exhausted. "Mother, I swear I read everything that had to do with you and Dad and the farm-"

"But you had no idea what was going on in your home town?" she said heatedly. "No idea that Moody's mother died last year? That Miss Stacey visited and was asking after you? What could you _possibly_ have feared that I would write?"

At this Gilbert snapped. "You _know_ what I was afraid of! That Mrs Anne Gardner was visiting Avonlea! That she was at home seeing family and friends, looking nothing like the girl we remembered, wealthy, and happy and in love with him!" Sonia's eyes were enormous, as she watched the words begin to pour out of her furious son. "I thought that she would take him to all the places we once shared, that she would show him our island! You could write to me and say she had given birth to a daughter who looked just like her- or given Gardner an heir to the family fortune. I can think of a _hundred_ things that I never wanted to hear. And it wasn't just you and Dad- I avoided everyone who had anything to do with her. The longer I stayed at home, the more chance there was that someone would bring her up. I wanted her to be happy- but I _didn't_ want to have it thrust into my face. It was hard enough moving on once, and I _never_ wanted to go back to that again."

Sonia had tears in her eyes, and she watched him visibly try and contain his own. "I'm not saying that it was right, but to me it made sense. I just- I had to close the chapter on her. I thought nothing could hurt her if she was happy with him. And no matter how I felt- I- I would never have wanted to see her like this." He walked away from her, rubbing his face tiredly. Sonia was shaken when he turned back to her then, his voice dull. "Did you write about Marilla too?"

Sonia shook her head. "No," she said at last. "You didn't respond, so I assumed that you didn't want to know that either."

He was silent for a time, and then looked outside. "I- I need to go and get some more firewood, ma. I'll be back inside in a little while."

Sonia Blythe watched him go, her hand over her mouth as the tears came. And when her husband came into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her without question, soothing her the only way he knew how.

* * *

That night, Gilbert found himself unable to sleep. After tossing and turning for some time, he took up his dressing gown and walked out into the kitchen. As quietly as he could he put the kettle on to boil, wondering at his luck at not being called on this night. Absently he ran through his patient list- Mrs Brodie was about a week off having her first baby, Mrs Drew's fourth was due in a month- of course, all of hers had gone early. He rubbed his hands on his tired face, dryly thinking that it was ironic- on the one night he could sleep, suddenly he couldn't. He heard a step behind him and jumped as his mother's hand touched his shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked gently. At the shake of his head, she answered. "I couldn't, either. Suppose I get us both a snack."

Gilbert couldn't repress a chuckle. "You wouldn't let me do it as a child."

Sonia smiled. "You were well fed through the day, dear. And a working man does need his strength."

Soon she sat beside him in front of the fire, with soup and rolls that she had conjured from the kitchen. After a few minutes of quiet Sonia spoke, her eyes carefully on the family photos on the mantelpiece. "I'm sorry for upsetting you today, dear."

He exhaled. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, I think that it does." Sonia let out a long breath then. "I should have tried harder to talk to you about this long ago," she said bluntly. "I never realised that you believed her married. I thought it impossible that you wouldn't have heard it from someone else." She gave him a curious look. "Do the two of you ever talk about it?"

Gilbert gave a faint smile. "Barely."

"What do you talk about then?"

He shrugged, his tiredness and the firelight somehow breaking down walls that had been up for so long. "Anything. Nothing. Same as always."

Sonia smiled. "That does sound like the two of you."

Gilbert's words were deliberate. "There's no point in talking about the past anymore. Either we upset each other, or we end up fighting again. This way is better."

She looked at him in surprise, feeling her way carefully. "Are you sure about that?"

He chuckled dryly. "Mother, when was I ever sure about anything to do with Anne?"

Sonia smiled. "And yet I imagine the past is present, all the same, dear."

He only nodded. "We- we have- oh, I don't know, we have some kind of equilibrium right now. She's not the same, and neither am I- but sometimes nothing has changed. And it's been- nice- for us to talk again."

Sonia watched him, her attention arrested. "So you've never talked about what happened after you graduated."

The change that this wrought on his expression startled her. "No. And we're not going to." Gilbert saw his mother's face fall, and he tried to explain himself. "Sometimes things just need to be left in the past. You can't- just- unscramble eggs."

This made her chuckle. "So the two of you are an omelette, dear."

A twisted smile came to his lean face then. "If that means a mess underneath, then yes, we are."

Sonia turned to him then, her face tender. "Then is it better for you to stay away from her?"

To her shock, he paled. "No- no. I- we- we have something of _us_ back again. I don't want to lose that."

His mother's eyes were sad, seeing something she felt quite sure her son was avoiding.

"And what of Anne? Does she feel the same?"

Gilbert's voice was tortured. "Yes. She does. I don't know how I know that, but she _does_. She- Anne never got mad at me for what I said to her when she came here. She should have thrown me from her house, or made me grovel for years. I was a _beast_. And yet she forgave me. She never once asked anything of me- never demanded any explanation, and I don't know why, mother, but she's not hidden from me now. She always held something back from me- and now she doesn't. And I don't know if that was the accident, or the grief, or something else-" he stopped, his throat closing over, and Sonia tried to gather her wits again after his impassioned outburst.

"Gilbert, I'm glad that you have found some peace in this, but don't you need to know _why_? If you are ever going to move forward, don't you need to understand what happened between the two of you?" she said softly, only to be met by his blazing eyes.

" _No_ , Mother. Don't you see? None of it would make the past any better. I don't need to know why she rejected me, why she cut off even the barest part of our friendship back then. I chose to let that go- I know her _now_. That's enough. If we go back it will only hurt us more. The only choice is to start over."

Sonia' tears were flooding unchecked at his obvious pain. "But if you could lay it to rest, maybe-"

Gilbert stood up then, agitated. " _No_. It _is_ at rest now. I don't want to know _any_ of it. I don't want to know why she didn't come when I was ill- knowing would only make it worse."

To his surprise his mother rose as well, and when he looked at the shock on her face, he stopped cold. "What is it?"

"What do you mean, 'why she didn't come'?"

Gilbert looked at her in shock. "When I had typhoid."

Sonia appeared to be frozen where she stood. "Forgive me, darling- I just wanted to clarify- that you don't need to know why she didn't visit you," she said slowly, her brown eyes studying him intently.

Gilbert slumped back down in his chair, and after a moment his mother sat beside him, taking his hand in her own. He spoke dully. "You know she didn't. She left Avonlea while I was sick. At Convocation I was trying to move on from everything, I was trying to be her friend. But it didn't happen. And when she heard I was dying- and Marilla told me that she knew- she just didn't come. She could have written- I would have been grateful for a message. But she _didn't_. That's why it broke apart- and that's why I never came back. And whatever friendship we have managed to salvage now, I still don't know _why_. If I let it, it sits like a barrier anytime I'm with her- but most of the time I can forget. And so I don't want to know."

Sonia wiped away a tear from her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't pretend to know how much this has hurt you. But please, you _need_ to talk to her about this- for both of your sakes."

He drew in a deep breath, determined. "No. I really don't. That was _six years_ ago. I have spent the last six months apologizing to everyone for my behaviour since then. So has she, mother. I'm done hurting over this, and I hope she is too. We need to move on now. And if we can talk civilly, if we can have some of the understanding back that we had, then it's enough for me."

To his surprise, his mother pulled her tall boy into her arms and held him tightly. Gilbert relaxed, and when she pulled back she gave him a shaky smile. "Well, I'm very glad, dear," she said, in an attempt to speak brightly. "The two of you really have grown up. Now, I shouldn't be keeping you up like this. Do you think you can sleep now? You never know when that phone will ring again."

Gilbert chuckled. "Alright. I'll just clear up here."

Sonia shook her head. "I'll do that, dear. You go and get some rest."

Gilbert did as he was told, unaccountably feeling lighter. He'd come to terms with what his silence had cost his family over the years- and was now relieved to see that they were all able to move on. And whether it was the confession or the warming soup, he fell into bed and was asleep within minutes.

Sonia moved around tidying the kitchen for some time that night. She checked on the bread she had set that evening, and took herself to the spare room upstairs where John was snoring peacefully. She crawled into bed beside her husband, thankful when he pulled her close without waking.

For Sonia though, sleep was far from her eyes for quite some time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

On Tuesday afternoon, Susan poured Anne a second cup of tea as they sat talking after school, and the two of them sat in comfort while they chatted. After a time, Anne broached something that had been on her mind of late.

"Susan, I was wondering if you could help me to make some extra baked goods this week."

At this, the housekeeper bridled. "Anne, surely if you need more you can let me take care of that."

Anne gave her an apologetic look. "It isn't for me, Susan- it's something I have been thinking about for school. And since that is my responsibility, it doesn't seem fair for the burden to fall on you."

Susan placed the biscuit tin on the table with a slight thump, her stern look in evidence. "I'm thinking that it would be simpler if you just filled me in."

Anne smiled and gave a little sigh. "Susan, I have some students going without food at school."

The older woman looked up to see some tears standing in Anne's grey eyes, and was instantly grim. "Of _course_ we can, Anne, I'll start on them now."

Anne laughed, her handkerchief in her hand by then. "Thank you- although it's a little more complicated than just making it, Susan. I need to find a way of helping them without it being obvious to the rest of the class. Some of the families are quite poor, and I would surmise that there is not much food to go around at home. They bring very little with them for the dinner break." A look of pain crossed Anne's face then. "I am fairly sure that some of them are not eating anything before they come, either." She could see the indignation building in Susan and folded her arms on the table practically. "I think we can do something for them- it will fill their bellies, and help their concentration as well."

Susan watched Anne carefully. "And you would like to do this in an ongoing manner?"

Anne looked relieved. "Yes, thank you. If the household budget can stretch to it, I would like to have food available for them each day- most families sit down to a meal at night, however- through the day-" here Anne faltered, and Susan, whose eyes had not missed anything took Anne's hand.

"Then we will do something for the dears. Let Susan take the helm."

Anne impulsively leaned over to hug Susan. "Thank you. You can't know how they will appreciate it."

Susan got up to clear dishes away rather noisily. "I don't know what this town means by allowing children to starve, I really don't," she muttered. She would go to see Cornelia Elliot in the morning. As the head of the Ladies' Aid, surely there was a way for the town to support Anne's work.

Anne stood with a sigh. "They simply don't know, Susan. It's not something that is talked about." She gathered her satchel of books and walked to her room, deep in thought. She had shared so little of her past with those whom she knew- and although it was a long time since Anne had experienced such hardship, to see her students now struggling broke her heart. She knew all of the ways the children would use to cover their lack- continuing to read at their desks when they had nothing to eat, finding hidden corners to sit while the others were finishing.

Slowly she began to change out of the suit she was in, pulling a simple grey dress from the hanger. At Green Gables, she had learned what it was to be cared for- and Marilla had often bewildered Anne by the amount of food that she would serve to the girl. To her, a full basket for school had been a wealth of riches- one that she had only ever imagined when she was younger. Only once had she thoughtlessly said this to Marilla- and Marilla had been brusque and dismissed Anne from her presence immediately. She had been terrified that she had mortally offended her guardian at first. It was not until later that she had heard her talking to Matthew of the situation in the barn- and in tears. Marilla's shock could not be underestimated- wealth they had never had, however at Green Gables food had never been scarce. A shaken Anne had gone to Dryad's bubble then, her arms wrapped around her thin little body as she sat thinking. Even at eleven, she had understood that people could not hear her story unmoved- the best thing she could do was to bury it far from herself now. Not for worlds would she allude to that time unless necessary.

* * *

When Anne came out of her room a short time later, Susan was thumping and kneading the fresh dough, her face set. Anne leant over to kiss her on the cheek, before pulling on an old sweater and apron, grabbing the scarf that lay on the table.

"Anne, what in the world would make you go outside right now?" a bewildered Susan asked.

She smiled. "I think I could use some fresh air- and I think that the sunshine may not hold for much longer. I should like to have a look at those roses now. I know it's far too early to prune them, however they are so overgrown that it will take multiple cuttings to manage them."

An indulgent look covered Susan's face then. "Well, wear your warm coat then." By now she had realised that if Anne wished to venture into the great outdoors, then the great outdoors was where she would end up, no matter how hard she pleaded. And the garden was close by, at least.

With a breath of relief, Anne stepped outside into the cool winter afternoon. She carefully sat down on the wooden bench some thoughtful soul had placed beside the roses and looked into the thicket before her. With a furtive look toward the window, Anne slipped down, sitting on the stone sides of the garden. She sighed at the sight of the tangled stems, one hand tracing the thorny stems of the nearest rose, trying to discover what lay at the bottom of the mess. As she worked dead grass away from the roots, she looked at them thoughtfully. Were they pink, or red, or white? Mrs Lynde had been especially fond of the yellow rose her Thomas had planted, one that had been safely potted and protected for the trip to Charlottetown in August.

Anne carefully began to untangle the first of the roses, her mind wandering. Mrs Lynde had written faithfully every week- exhorting Anne to rest well, wear warm underwear and to be sure to attend church every week. She had smiled, her heart missing the older woman. How she had infuriated Marilla at times- and yet she had been a faithful friend to her. Through her companionship, Marilla had borne Anne's departure and after several months had written that the arguments had a way of breaking up the monotony- which was her way of saying that the two of them got along very well together. Mrs Lynde had been the one who had held Anne first on her arrival home last May- the only one Anne would allow to touch her, at first.

As she took the secateurs in her gloved hand, she heard a gentle voice behind her.

"I don't think we are quite done with the frosts yet, dear."

Anne froze, her eyes wide and unsure. She turned on the spot to see Sonia Blythe standing in a warm hat and coat, and began to scramble to her feet. Sonia laid her hand on her shoulder, preventing her. "Please don't rise on my account, Anne, I'm content to rest here. These old bones aren't what they used to be." She sat down on the chair, watching Anne's hesitant expression.

"Mrs Blythe, I'm sorry I wasn't inside to receive you."

Sonia smiled then. "If you were, I should feel like you were a stranger. The Anne Shirley I remember was rarely inside when she could be outside."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Yes. I was concerned that if I waited for spring to prune these, that it might become even more a jungle than it is now. I figured if I could make a start while nothing else was growing."

"Oh, I would guess they are. We just can't see the evidence of it yet." There was a silence between the two women, and Sonia looked up at the small house. "Your housekeeper was kind enough to point me in your direction, dear. She did suggest that you may wish to come inside before it becomes too cold though."

Anne gave a faint smile at the amused look on the older woman's face. "At times I feel a little caged by the cold weather. I like to come outside to feel it, every now and then."

Sonia chuckled. "And what does Susan have to say about this?"

Anne gave her a wry smile. "Oh, she is quite used to me now- although she will readily go for the doctor if she thinks I'm being silly." At the allusion to Gilbert, the change that came over her face then was startling, and Anne busied herself by dusting her hands on her apron. Sonia eyed her curiously.

"Well, as my son thinks you are doing rather well, it seems you take care of yourself just fine."

Anne's cheeks were scarlet. "Thank you." She frowned warily. "All the same, perhaps you had better not mention me coming outside to him. The two of them together are quite a force to be reckoned with."

Sonia studied Anne's face. "How are you doing, dear?"

Anne's hands clasped the secateurs close to her, her posture uneasy. "Very well, thank you. How has your visit been?"

Gilbert's mother nodded, trying to smile. "Lovely, thank you, Anne. We've been fortunate that Gilbert hasn't been called out much."

When the silence grew longer, Sonia cleared her throat. "Anne, how are you really faring?"

Anne's face was startled. "What do you mean?"

"I only wondered how things had been for you since Christmas. It's a hard time when you have recently lost someone," Sonia replied quietly.

Anne shifted the secateurs to her other hand, trying to be frank. "It was- difficult. I don't suppose I could expect it to be otherwise, really."

"Marilla was very proud of you, you know."

Anne looked up at her, with tears in her eyes, and Sonia's look was kind. "I spoke to her from time to time- and she always mentioned you with great love."

Anne swallowed, her forehead creasing. "As I do her."

There was a longer silence then, and Sonia sighed. "Anne, I suppose you are wondering why I am here." There was no answer in the negative, and Sonia continued carefully. "I hope you will forgive me for the boldness of coming here without an invitation. Dear, there are times to keep things in the past, however I don't believe this is one of them. I need to make you an apology that is long overdue."

Anne went white. "No, please, Mrs Blythe-"

" _Please_ , dear." Anne saw a determined expression in her brown eyes that made her jump- the one she knew best from her son. "It was quite some time after the event itself when we learned that Gilbert had proposed to you." Sonia saw the flinch Anne gave, but continued. "We didn't know at first. He never spoke of it to us." She looked out toward the schoolhouse with a sigh. "The way that I responded to you after we found out was wrong."

Anne tucked her skirts around herself, thinking sickly that the best thing she could do was to remain silent, to let Sonia say her piece and leave.

"It was not my place to take your decision out on you, nor was it appropriate for me to take the offence to myself the way that I did." She gave a little sigh. "When you are a mother, Anne, you will understand how blind the partiality is- and how unfairly it can cause you to respond. It was wrong of me to act on that."

Anne shook her head, every muscle aching with the stiff way she held herself. "You don't need to do this, Mrs Blythe," she muttered.

Sonia's smile was brittle. "I do, dear." She cleared her throat, trying to gather her courage. "There is something more important that I need to tell you. And while I am loathe to do anything to cause the two of you more heartache-"

The tortured look in Anne's eyes made Sonia's heart sink. "Please, Mrs Blythe, _please_ don't do this-"

Sonia reached down to take Anne's hand in hers, her heart breaking. "Dear, you need to talk to my son. There are things that the two of you don't know." This time a terrified Anne pulled away, and Sonia watched in anguish as she blindly got to her feet, fumbling for her walking stick.

" _Anne_ ," she said, without heat, but arresting the girl with the authority that Marilla's tone had always held. "Anne- _listen_ to me. _He doesn't know that you came to see him."_

Anne stilled and turned to Sonia, and the glassy look of terror in the girl's eyes made her shudder.

"I beg your pardon?" she said faintly.

Sonia sighed. "You really must sit down, dear. If you fall, I don't fancy facing either an enraged Susan or Gilbert."

Anne, feeling nightmarish sat on the seat beside Sonia. She was white to her lips, and Sonia touched her arm gently.

"He doesn't know-"

"That- isn't _possible_."

To her surprise, Sonia gave a slight, bitter laugh. "I can assure you, that it is."

"No- I _heard_ him- he _knew_ that I was there-" Anne managed to choke.

"No, I don't believe that he did." Sonia looked older than her years, remembering how ill her son had been. "Anne, he was terribly sick. When I asked you in to come and see him I believed him stable. Obviously, I was wrong. I was concerned that any further upset would cause him to relapse, and I was too afraid to question him about it once the fever left. I assumed that whatever had passed between the two of you was destructive enough." Sonia's heart clenched at the hopelessness on her face. "He was delirious, Anne. He didn't know what he was saying."

Anne's lips were numb. "He doesn't remember?"

"No. He believes that you chose not to come," Sonia said slowly. "That you didn't care enough to stay and see him."

The look of wild panic on Anne's face made Sonia flinch. "That's- that's even _worse_! How could he think that I would ignore him almost dying?"

Sonia took her hand in her own, tears standing in her eyes. "That is why you have to _talk_ to him. He needs to know the truth."

Anne stood then, clutching the chair, her voice passionate. "The _truth_ , Mrs Blythe? That when he was fever ridden he didn't want me anywhere near him? That the mere _mention_ of my name was enough to make him furious, even in his state? No!" Her voice broke under the strain. "How can I possibly tell him about that now?"

Sonia rose to plead with the distraught girl. "The truth is better than the lie he has believed all these years-"

At this Anne broke into a sob. "It _isn't_!" she cried. "Whatever he thinks now, he has clearly put it behind him. If I tell him, I risk awakening everything that ever came between us. I was a fool and deserved everything that Gilbert said, whether he knows it happened or not. He would see that. And delirious or not, even if he learned that I cared enough to go, he will _not_ be able to forget this. He would never forgive me."

Sonia wiped away tears of her own. She put her arms around the sobbing girl until eventually, Anne began to calm. When she did so, Sonia sat her down on the chair again. "Anne, I have very little idea of what went on between you before you left Redmond," she said gently. "Gilbert never told us anything. And I confess that I was convinced enough by his behaviour to not ask questions. I should have seen how out of character it was at the time, and I will admit that my prejudices blinded me." Anne's hands came up to cover her face in anguish. "I can't help but think this would be a very different story had the two of you spoken only a week later." The girl's eyes were pained, and Sonia swallowed. "Anne, dear, I believe that the thought that you didn't care is far more damaging than anything else that separated you. You need to tell Gilbert what happened."

Anne tucked a wisp of red hair behind one ear, her voice wooden. "If you felt he should know, why didn't you tell him at once?"

Sonia laughed mirthlessly. "Anne, I only found out the other night. You can't imagine how shocked I was."

"Oh, I think I can."

The older woman looked towards the later afternoon sun with a sigh. "There is no way I could answer the questions he would have had. Only _you_ could answer them. And you deserved to know the facts first."

Anne wrapped her sweater around her thin shoulders, dully. "I- I thought he was only being kind in not bringing it up." Her eyes squeezed shut, as another tear fell down her cheek. "He really doesn't know?"

"No, dear. I'm sorry." Sonia sighed. "It's why you left Avonlea, isn't it?"

Anne nodded, her eyes closed. She could still hear his hoarse voice from the stairs in his home- the words that still came to her in nightmares. When his voice reached her from the unseen bedroom, she had turned, not hearing Mrs Blythe call her name- she had stumbled down the staircase, out of the house and into the deepest part of the Haunted Wood, from then on to be shadowed by the ghost of the boy she loved laying so near death, telling her to leave him for good.

Anne shuddered. To tell him- to open up afresh the very worst moment of her life- _no_. She couldn't do it. It was better that they forget, better that he never knew. Gilbert's mother sat waiting, and at last Anne shook her head. "I'm sorry- I can't tell him," she said unsteadily. "I- it's better this way."

Sonia rubbed her face, exhausted. "You are quite the pair, the two of you," she said with a sigh. "Anne, please at least consider it. You deserve to have that laid to rest. You both do." She placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "And I am- _glad_ \- that in some fashion the two of you are friends again." After a moment she turned to face Anne. "Dear, I have no right to ask this of you- but if you can forgive this meddling old mother, why did you come to see him that night?"

Anne looked at her, dumbfounded. The words were forced through her pale lips. "Because I _cared_." She shook her head, trying to come to terms with what Sonia had told her, and then turned back to her in anger. "When he was in so much danger, why did you allow me near him? I only made it worse."

Sonia felt a jolt go through her and she gazed at the girl, her eyes haunted. "Because I believed that he needed you."

Anne's voice was defeated. "He didn't- he didn't need me, Mrs Blythe. You saw that clearly."

"You're _wrong,_ dear. I know that now." The girl looked up then, and Sonia smiled sadly. "Anne, do you know how long it has been since I have seen my son?"

To her surprise, Anne gave a faint grin. "I imagine not since breakfast."

Sonia's face was sad. "No, dear. It's been far longer- over eight years."

Anne's face twisted, as fresh pain tore through her heart.

"I blamed you," she said honestly, before continuing. "Before last year. But you coming to live at Four Winds showed me something very different. Anne, I didn't lose him because of your presence in his life- I lost him because of your absence." She gripped Anne's arm then, wanting her to understand. "Now, I know the two of you both made choices afterwards- you left, and _he_ left. But since you came back into his world, he's changed. He is regaining something of himself that I thought he had lost forever. No, it isn't perfect, and I can imagine that it has been impossibly hard for the two of you- but he's connecting with _life_ again. That's because of you."

Anne shook her head. "No," she said unsteadily. "It's not me, Mrs Blythe."

At this Sonia's look grew firm. "He's not with her, Anne."

At this, Anne's hands fluttered up to ward off the words, and Sonia stopped cold at the look of misery on her face. "No, _please_ don't say anything. It's none of my business. He needs to be _happy_."

"He does. But it will not be with Penelope Winston. He told me that."

At Anne's silence, Sonia rubbed her eyes wearily. Had she only made the situation worse? And yet someone needed to remove the rubble that lay between her son and the girl she had once felt sure would become her daughter. Equally as stubborn as each other, equally afraid to lose the little they had. How could the understanding they had once had become so broken? For a moment she bit her lip, determined not to interfere, not to make things any more complicated. And then the silent tear that fell down Anne's cheek broke through her resolve.

"Anne? Forgive me- but- are you in love with my son?"

Hardly breathing, Anne sat like stone. Wanting to run, to do anything to escape the simple answer to her question. It was then that she heard a step behind her, and Sonia looked up to see a cautious Susan come behind Anne, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Anne, dear? Do you need to come inside now?"

Sonia spoke up. "I'm sorry, Susan, it's my fault. I should have been sensible and allowed Anne to come in, instead of keeping her in the cold talking."

Susan was relieved to see Anne turn to her then, pale but steady. "I'm quite alright, Susan. I don't believe you have properly met Doctor Blythe's mother. We spent a good deal of time studying together before we went to college- and Mrs Blythe was well used to the two of us being outdoors in all kinds of weather."

Sonia smiled, wanting to ease Susan's mind. "Like a pair of children they were, at times. Susan, Gilbert tells me that you have been very good to him, sending him home with baskets of food- thank you very much. I do worry about him from time to time."

Some of the tension left the housekeeper at her friendliness, although Anne's colour still concerned her. For a minute more the two women chatted, and at last Sonia looked at Anne, her eyes falsely bright.

"Well, I believe I have kept you outside for long enough, dear. I had better take my leave as well; I have supper to prepare for the menfolk."

Anne stood with her walking stick in one hand, carefully keeping her posture straight as she walked. The habit of pushing unsettling thoughts down resurfaced, and when at last she stood at her front door to farewell Sonia, her look was calm.

Sonia felt her throat catch. Tears stood in her eyes, as she looked at the pale, red-headed girl before her, the careful way her grief was covered.

"I'm sorry, Anne." Sonia spoke, with difficulty. "I didn't wish to upset you. But you needed to know that it wasn't Gilbert who said those things that day. If I may be so bold, I don't think the problem is with either of you being able to forgive each other," she said slowly. "The problem is the two of you learning to forgive yourselves." For a fleeting second she saw the spasm of pain on Anne's face, and then she swallowed, and it was once again hidden. "I wondered if- when you came home next- if you would like to come and visit us," Sonia said quietly. "We've missed you."

Anne's lip trembled, and at first, Sonia was afraid she would refuse. Then she saw her nod.

"Thank- thank you," she stuttered, and after a moment of hesitancy, she spoke again. "You are most welcome to visit next time you are here seeing Gilbert."

Sonia smiled. "I would like that, dear. Now, I will leave you to your rest, before Susan chases me out of here with a broom."

When the door closed behind her, Anne drew in a deep breath at the world that had been suddenly tipped on its axis.

He didn't know. He had no memory of it. And yet Anne feared that delirium had only forced him to say the things he was too polite to give voice to. Most likely his feelings had been little different at the time. She trembled then, her hands clenched. Would Sonia tell him now? Unconsciously she shook her head. No, she wouldn't. Sonia had left that with her. And she simply couldn't do it.

Anne turned to see her housekeeper watching her from the doorway in concern. Something inside Anne broke at that moment, some hold over the secrets she had become so adept at keeping. She walked across to her slowly, and then tucked her free hand into Susan's work-worn one.

"Susan, dear, there is a very long story I need to be telling you one of these days. However, I must admit that it is completely beyond me today. I wondered if you would mind if I took a very long, hot bath now, and then put myself to bed at an unbearably sensible hour."

Susan gave a sigh of relief, and turned Anne towards her bedroom. "Well, thank heavens for common sense, Anne dear. I'll have the water heated in no time."

* * *

When a sober Sonia Blythe entered her son's house late that afternoon, it was to find a relaxed Gilbert in the living room playing checkers with his father. The stew she had prepared before leaving was bubbling on the stove, and she smiled to see the new shelving her husband had nailed to the wall.

"Did you enjoy your walk, dear?" her husband asked her.

Sonia turned to hang her coat and hat on the hook, taking up the apron that she had left there earlier. As she tied it on, Gilbert came to lean on the kitchen bench beside her. "I didn't expect you to be gone for so long. Did you see anything interesting?"

She tied the stings to her apron, her face not giving anything away. "I went to see Anne, dear."

Gilbert turned to her in sudden worry. " _Mother_ -"

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "Son, she is your old friend- she is the child of someone I knew, and someone I should have been in better contact with, all those years. I wanted to know that she was alright for myself."

He stumbled then, trying to keep his voice light, however, the panic in his voice betrayed him. "Is- is she? She's fine? Is she alright?"

Sonia drew in a deep breath, fighting back the frustration she felt at their stubbornness, at the complete terror of loss they both lived in. "She's well, Gilbert. You're right- she's stronger. She's going to be fine." Her words failed her then, wanting to plead with him to talk to her- to somehow attempt to fix the mess that had gone between them. Sonia's brown eyes fixed on him, and her final words seemed to echo in the stillness of the house. "The two of you need each other, Gilbert. I don't know in what fashion- I imagine that is up to the two of you- but you need her in your world. And she desperately needs you in hers."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

On a crisp Friday morning, Gilbert drove his parents to the station. The fields around the branch line were covered in frost, and wherever he looked tiny cobwebs stretched between clumps of grass. Gilbert smiled at the sight. Fairy webs, she had once called them. He gave the horse a pat as they stopped at the station, and moved to help his father with the bags. A few minutes later, he joined his mother as she tucked the tickets into her purse.

Sonia looked up at her tall son then, quickly blinking back tears.

"Will you be busy today?" she asked lightly.

Gilbert shrugged with a smile. "I can never tell. I have a few calls to make, and I plan to catch up on paperwork this morning."

Sonia looked at him indulgently, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. "I hope you didn't get behind because we were here."

He grinned. "You know that isn't it, mother. It's been great to have you both here. And not just because you feed me."

Sonia chuckled. "No, but I would guess that it helps. It's rather wonderful to have you come and see us too, dear."

Gilbert's hands were in his pockets, and he smiled. "I'll make sure I come more often. Perhaps at Easter."

An emotional Sonia pulled him into a tight hug then. "Gilbert, you will think about talking to Anne, won't you?"

Gilbert's look was firm. "Mother, this isn't anything you need to fix. You need to let us be grown ups here."

Sonia sighed. "I suppose so. Gilbert; just promise me that if it all begins to matter, that you will do something about it."

Gilbert looked at his mother in shock, as John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Look, the train's coming now, Sonia; you should be onto him wearing warm underwear and eating properly by now."

"Oh, that is such a ridiculous stereotype," Sonia said crossly and turned back to Gilbert. "All the same dear, remember that you need to wear your vest right through spring and that you need to take the time to eat." She gave him one last hug as the train pulled in, knowing they had only minutes to say goodbye. "Look after yourself, darling- and a few more letters to ease my mind about you wouldn't go astray either."

He smiled as she held him close. "I will." As Sonia stepped back, he spoke quietly. "I'll let you know how she is too."

Sonia smiled. "Thank you, dear. I would appreciate that."

John followed then, with a hearty slap on the back that made Gilbert cough. "Good grief, do you do that to your cows, dad?"

John grinned. "'Course. But they don't whine about it."

Gilbert drew in a deep breath of the chilly air as he watched them board the train, his mind already turning to the cases that he needed to write up. Through the glass he smiled, watching his father tease his mother as he placed their bags under the seats.

At the unexpected sound of his name, Gilbert turned to see Stan hurrying toward him. "Well, this is good timing, Doc. You've got a number of boxes on the train. Were you expecting anything?"

Gilbert frowned. "Supplies, I would guess- and some new equipment."

"We'll be a few minutes unloading them if you can wait."

Gilbert followed the older man toward the office and was startled by someone running toward him on the platform, and he turned, expecting that there was an emergency. Instead, he saw a dishevelled Owen Ford rushing to the office, his valise in hand.

"Steady on, son, you've got a couple of minutes," Stan said easily, turning to walk toward the ticket booth. "We're not done unloading yet."

When the ticket was paid for, Owen came to stand beside a stiff Gilbert.

"I've got a lead," he said in a low voice.

Gilbert turned to him with a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

Owen's manner was tense. "Leslie. My attorney in Ottawa thinks he has news of her."

Gilbert's reply was unenthusiastic. "I see."

"I'm surprised I even made it to the train on time," he grumbled. "I had to call by the schoolhouse on my way."

Gilbert stiffened. "Oh?"

Owen shrugged. "I rather foolishly promised the school board that I would be there for the building tomorrow- I didn't want the charming Miss Shirley wondering why I hadn't come."

"Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of people without you, Ford," Gilbert said blandly.

The other man suddenly looked at him. "You grew up with her, didn't you? What's her story?"

There was a spark in Gilbert's hazel eyes at that. "What do you mean by that?"

Owen sighed impatiently. "You know what I mean. She's unique- she's wasted here. What is someone of her calibre doing here so far from social and intellectual circles?"

"There are good people in this community," Gilbert said, incensed. "She's here because she wants to be."

"Perhaps." He gave Gilbert a shrewd glance. "Just how good a friend of yours _is_ she?"

The look on Gilbert's face was enough to convince Owen that he was on dangerous territory. "I think that's between Anne and myself."

Owen scowled and kicked at a loose pebble on the platform then. "I was just- _curious_ \- to see if you'd mentioned anything to do with myself and- anyone else- to her."

Gilbert turned to him then in disgust. "That's what's worrying you?"

Owen smiled coldly. "There's a gentleman's code, Blythe. Not allowing knowledge of a more personal nature to be let slip to ladies of your acquaintance. You're a college man, you should be aware of it."

"Well, it's not how I do business," he said bluntly. "I've never needed to avail myself of that particular code."

Owen rolled his eyes. "'And all the saints say _Amen_ '," he muttered. "Well? Did you?"

Gilbert's words were deliberate. "I don't violate doctor-patient confidentiality, Ford. Ever. But if you're still looking for Leslie Moore, then what are you doing trying to safeguard your reputation with Anne?"

"My reputation is fine, thank you," Owen said, sardonically. "And that would be my business with the lovely school teacher, don't you think?"

To his consternation, Gilbert smiled. "We'll see. You'll find that Anne tends to be in charge of her own business."

When the whistle blew, Owen picked up his suitcase. "You know, Blythe, you'd be a darned sight more fun if you had a woman in your life."

Gilbert chose not to dignify this with a response and merely nodded as Owen climbed aboard the train. He moved back down to his parent's carriage, and his father came to stand at the door.

"Friend of yours?" John said, looking at his steely-eyed son.

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "Not particularly, no."

John Blythe studied Gilbert, and to his surprise, he grinned. "It's not just anyone who can get you riled up like that. He's not- by some chance- _interested_ in someone you care for, is he?"

" _Dad!_ " Gilbert spluttered, and John grinned at him. A week's observation had been enough for him to read the very simple truth in his son's life.

"I think you need to decide what you want soon, Gil. Do write a bit more this year, won't you?"

A flummoxed Gilbert could only nod, and the train began to move. John's grin was huge. "We love you, son."

Before the train could move far, he found his voice again. "Love you too, Dad."

After the train was gone from sight, Gilbert walked out to see his supplies being loaded behind a very patient horse. He climbed on board, watching the train disappear over the hill. He slapped the reins, feeling unaccountably as if he had missed something important.

"Hippocrates, I think it's going to be a very weird day," Gilbert muttered.

* * *

When Anne came out of her bedroom at six-o-clock on Saturday morning, it was to see a fully dressed Susan packing a large hamper of food for the day. She looked up in some concern.

"Anne, don't you think your grey cashmere would be better for today? You and the schoolhouse are on display, after all."

Anne smiled. "With the building, I think anything I wear will end up covered in dust, Susan." She adjusted the white lace collar on her black gown and stood looking over the plans she had been given. "There was enough money raised at the end of last year to buy some new books for the school- and Mr McAllister has built us some bigger bookshelves. Isn't that wonderful?"

Susan harrumphed. "I'll think it wonderful if Mrs Reece doesn't bring those troublesome children today. They spoiled the ice cream at the last picnic, and all she will say is that their father is the one who should discipline them."

"Well, there will be no ice cream today, Susan dear- unless someone forgets to put the milk inside," Anne said cheerfully. "The children and I are most thankful they aren't waiting until spring to extend the building-the old stove is doing very little to keep us warm."

The old stove would not be removed until the warmer weather, and by seven o clock Anne and Susan were at the schoolhouse and had made it as hot as it could be. The board had assembled a team of men and women to work on the schoolhouse that day, bolstered by the last Board of Education report, which praised the seaward community and their teacher to the skies.

Susan was kept busy preparing tea and coffee for the workers and was soon joined by women setting tables of food out in the old school barn. Two ancient stoves had been placed in a sheltered corner presided over by members of the Ladies' quilting circle, the Ladies Aid and the church missionary society- all present because Cornelia Elliot was the president of each one. Leaving the food to her committee members, Cornelia spent much of her time flanking Anne and browbeating the members of the committee to make sure that Anne had the schoolhouse she envisioned.

By midday Anne had begun the task of moving the books in the classroom around, resettling desks and pinning pictures to the classroom walls again. The mothers of the students had all been in to look at the slates that sat proudly on each child's desk, pointing out how neatly Tommy could write his name, and that Miss Shirley must have a wonderful gift with numbers to teach them such complicated sums. Anne only smiled. She had discovered that there was nothing a parent loved better than seeing what their child had produced, and had insisted that each child place their best work on their desk the previous afternoon.

There had been a slight commotion when some graffiti under the desks was seen by indignant parents- how dared that bold Simpson boy write his name with their Anabelle's? And who was this Jack that had inscribed his name under every girl's desk in turn?

With an unnaturally solemn look, Anne had assured the parents that she kept a very close eye on their little angels and that such behaviour was not encouraged in her classroom. Billy's parents were assured that the Wilson boy sat nowhere near him, and Mrs Wilson issued an edict that Billy Slater was to not be allowed anywhere near her Chester in the classroom. As a matter of fact, the boys had long since made up any quarrel they had and peace had reigned in Anne's kingdom for quite some time.

* * *

At midday, folks began to gather in the barn for a hot meal, and Anne was relieved as the room emptied. Penny Winston threw herself into Anne's desk chair with a sigh.

"You know, I don't quite know what I will do when I go home," Penny said thoughtfully, prompting Anne to look at her in surprise. She had told Anne a week ago about her intention to leave in the spring, and a bewildered Anne had been unable to respond immediately. Penny had assumed this was because she was taken by surprise- however, Anne's thoughts had immediately centred on the town's doctor in shock. Had he known? Was this why there was no future with her?

Anne looked at her curiously. "What you will do?"

Penny gave a chuckle. "I've had the care of a house and a child. I used to live a fairly idle life, I believe. I should like to have something to keep me busy, I think."

"You'll miss the chores?" Anne teased lightly, and Penny smiled.

"You know, I will. And I think I will need the distraction. I'll miss Drew and Lizzie terribly." She came around the desk to sit beside Anne, as she looked at the small classroom. "Do you think I would make a good secretary?" Penny asked suddenly. "My father is forever complaining that he can't hire anyone who understands his invoices. Perhaps I could help him there."

Anne smiled. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to spend some time being idle first? You've earned it, I think. Andrew says that you work tirelessly."

"If that means I am forever chasing my tail, then yes. But I think I will talk to Father about it. And Mother is always helping on committees and charities, perhaps I can join her on her outings as well." She gave a sigh, her blue eyes shining. "And visits to the museum, and Dorchester Square, and proper tea rooms-" here she laughed at herself. "I might be quite busy, after all. I can't wait to be at home again."

Anne's smile was genuine. "That's wonderful, Penny."

Neither woman had moved, and the younger woman shot Anne a twinkling look. "You don't seem keen to head out to the barn."

Anne gave an apologetic laugh. "Truth be told, I am enjoying the quiet too much- however, everyone has been so kind, and the schoolhouse has desperately needed work. Someone even sealed the crack in the floorboards under my desk- you can't think what it is like to have the cold breeze whistling around down there."

Anne went to stand up. However, before the foot that had been suspiciously numb all day could reach the floor, it became caught in the walking stick that lay innocently on the ground, and to her shock she found herself falling forward with a cry of surprise onto the wooden floor.

Penny leapt up after her in a panic. "Oh goodness, Anne, are you alright?"

Anne pushed the red hair from her face, with a wry groan. "Oh, I just tripped. I think I'm fine." She sat up and grimaced as she examined her hand.

"I'd better get Gilbert," Penny said, worried, causing Anne to wave her off.

"No, I'm sure I'm fine- besides, I haven't seen him here today."

"He's been on the roof since mid-morning, I believe. You most likely just missed him." She leant in to straighten the lace on a bewildered Anne's dress and stood up with a mischievous smile. "There, all ready now," she said inexplicably and left the room in a swirl of blue skirts.

An embarrassed Anne continued to assess her condition. She hadn't had an incident for weeks now. As she got to her feet she groaned, thinking of Susan's fussing, and suddenly paled- she would need to face Gilbert for the first time since Sonia Blythe's visit.

It had been a very unsettling week. Lying awake night after night she had grown exasperated with herself, unable to sleep and desperately trying to convince herself that nothing had changed, that they could continue as they were. And so she had been a little more distracted, a little more tired than usual- most likely adding to the situation she was in now.

There was a step at the door, and Anne looked up to see a dusty Gilbert walking in with an expression somewhere between amusement and concern. In that moment she began to relax- he looked just as he always had.

Before she could speak, he interrupted her. "You're fine, I know. How about we check just to make sure though."

Anne flushed as he got on one knee before her, and his gentle hands moved to examine her ankle.

"I don't think there's anything wrong, Gil, I can't feel anything," she said, as calmly as she could. "I only tripped."

He looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow, and for the first time, she noticed that he was in his shirtsleeves, and had rolled them up above his elbows. Drawing her eyes from his arms with a blush, she tried to focus on anything else but the man kneeling before her.

"Nothing, as in you didn't hurt it, or nothing, as in you can't feel it?" he said coolly. "Those are two different things."

Anne studied her fingernails absorbingly. "I suppose both."

"Alright, give me a minute here."

Praying that no one would enter the room, Anne tried to squash the droll observation that yet again Gilbert's Blythe's hands were underneath her skirt. Must her mind _always_ go there? Of course, there was no real danger of interruption- Unbeknownst to Anne, an innocent looking Penny had stationed herself outside the classroom blithely redirecting questions about Anne's whereabouts to Mrs Jacob Mullins- who had conveniently left for the day.

After a moment, Gilbert sat back, relieved. "Well, the foot is alright- but- wait, Anne, what did you do to your hand?"

Anne had unconsciously been rotating her tingling wrist with a frown, and he held out his hand for it with a dry expression. His fingers felt around the bone carefully, and he stopped when she flinched. "You fell on your wrist?"

She gave a short sigh. "Yes."

Gilbert stood up then and grinned as picked up her stick. "You know that it won't help you down there, right?"

"I was decorating the floor."

He laughed at the way her nose had turned up and took her injured hand in his again, his manner quickly sobering. "Look, you've just sprained it, I think. I assume you haven't fallen in a while."

Anne shrugged. "No. I've been steadier, lately." She hadn't noticed him bringing his bag in and was surprised to see him now pull a small bandage out of it.

Gilbert began to wrap her hand carefully. "I really hope Jeremy can do something about this," he muttered. "He's here next week."

"Why, Gil?"

He stopped bandaging, unable to process her question. "What do you mean, _why_?"

Anne looked at him indulgently. "Look, it was an accident- something that could happen to anyone."

"Yes, well, I want it to stop happening." Gilbert continued to wind the bandage around her fingers, unconsciously smoothing the bandage over her hand as he worked. "I'm concerned. Every time you fall, the risk increases of permanent damage. What if you really get hurt one time?"

She watched him, her cheeks unexpectedly warm. She'd been afraid to put too much faith in the changing relationship between them- and yet sometimes it seemed to have been merely paused for eight years. Anne met his hazel eyes then. "I already have permanent damage, Gil. And I _could_ get hurt. So could you- so could anyone."

Gilbert scowled at her. "This is different."

All embarrassment had fled now, and Anne spoke to him quietly. "I know that. But I'm not searching for a miracle cure, Gilbert. I can accept my limitations."

Gilbert released her hand, and with a frown, he placed his hands in his pockets. His mother's words to him had given him his own restless nights- and he drew in a tight breath now. She didn't want to be coddled, he knew that- but he somehow needed to explain.

"It's just that I thought you were safe all those years ago," he said slowly. "I thought nothing would be able to touch you. And instead, the next time I saw you, you were injured badly. And I couldn't do a thing about it. I don't want to be responsible for missing something that gets you hurt again."

Anne stood up and was startled to find that he hadn't moved. He was closer than he had been in a long time- and she studied the eyes now so near her own, trying not to imagine that she saw something in them. Her voice was gentle. "Gilbert Blythe, you're not responsible for keeping me safe- you're only responsible for being a doctor when I need to call on you as such," she said, with a slight chuckle. "I'm responsible for me. But-" here her cheeks flushed. "I'm very grateful for the fact that you care."

"Well, I do." He stepped away then, turning to face the classroom to regain some space. "You know, I overheard a rather interesting conversation this morning while I was on the roof."

Anne rubbed the bandage on her hand and picked up her walking stick. "You mean Mrs Peter talking about her husband shaving his whiskers off?" At Gilbert's raised eyebrow, Anne smiled impishly. "You must have missed that one. It was riveting."

He chuckled. "I imagine it was. No, I'm talking about the one where the celebrated Miss Shirley wanted to make food available for certain students."

Anne cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Oh."

Seemingly casual, Gilbert strolled over to the blackboard to inspect her writing. "The Ladies Aid are very keen to assist you- Susan was discussing ways and means in here while I was on the roof."

Anne gave him a droll look. "Eavesdropping, Doctor Blythe?"

"Feeling rather proud of a friend, actually."

At this she shook her head, her face flushed. "Don't be silly. Anyone would do it."

"Not everyone would notice it." He busied himself in rolling down his sleeves. "I most likely know the families. If there is anything I can do, let me know."

He saw her turn to walk back to the desk, and his heart broke at the unknown expression on her face.

"It happened to you, didn't it?" She was silent, and he pressed on bleakly. "You went without food." She lifted her eyes to his then, and he could read the grief in them. His own blinked furiously. "I'm so sorry." At her bewildered look, he swallowed hard. "I- I was an idiot to torment you. I didn't know what you'd had to endure."

She shook her red head, trying to smile. "You paid for that comment for five years, Gilbert. It was a harsh sentence even then. I told you, you owe me nothing."

"Maybe I owed it to the past."

As she went to move, he stopped her, suddenly afraid. "Anne, are you alright?"

Anne looked up, bewildered. "Yes, Gil. I'm fine. That was a very long time ago."

He looked at her, his face flushed. "No, _now_. Financially."

Anne manufactured a smile and stepped closer to him, her voice low. "I am fine. Really, truly fine. You shouldn't worry so."

Gilbert gave a reluctant grin. "I can't picture going without- and- I would hate to think that you-"

Anne lifted her head, smiling. "You are letting your imagination get the better of you, Gilbert. I thought you left that to me?" At his foolish look, she gave him a tender glance. "We live very comfortably, Gil. You've seen the way Susan stocks the table- I'm sure I have gained several pounds since Christmas."

Gilbert only just stopped himself from acknowledging that fact. He felt his cheeks redden, and drew in a long breath, willing himself to shut up. "Well, according to mother I could stand to gain a few, so I suppose we'd better head outside for lunch before the Crawford boys eat everything."

* * *

The building was completed as the sun began to descend, and painting would be completed on the next dry weekend. Anne was brought in officially to inspect the new cloakroom, and Gilbert watched with a smile as she made a little speech of thanks, somehow managing to include everyone who had assisted that day. The head of the school board thanked everyone then, and people began to head for home.

Gilbert was slow to collect his belongings, talking with various townsfolk and anticipating an easy meal at home before falling into bed. He had patched up several cuts and injuries that had occurred through the course of the day, including a splinter in Samuel Elliot's finger. Gilbert scratched his head sheepishly. He supposed he should have asked if the strapping fellow if he was squeamish before he pulled out his needle- however, the young man had regained consciousness eventually.

As he pulled his heavy coat on now, he scowled. One side effect of spending a day with various townsfolk was hearing the inevitable gossip that fluttered around- why the sullen Mrs Davidson had left her home so suddenly, the Willis child born yesterday who looked nothing like his pa- and hadn't he got a shock! Unkind laughter about poor Mr Cottsloe, who didn't remember his own wife last week- and then Gilbert's jaw clenched when Mrs Langley had brought up him again. The women clearly had no idea that the stove's pipe was an excellent conductor of sound.

Oh, it was nothing Gilbert hadn't heard before- snide suppositions about why he hadn't proposed to young Miss Winston yet- rumor had it that her brother may have vetoed the match; faint, insinuating comments about the mystery of the grey house amongst the willows- had Miss Winston heard the rumors about the mysterious Leslie West perhaps? Miss Caruthers had nodded knowingly. Oh, not that she would ever say anything was amiss, but a beautiful young woman's husband was mysteriously first alive and then dead, and alive again- and then became someone else. It just wasn't normal.

The gossip had halted for a moment when Cornelia Elliot arrived. Everyone knew that she would never hear anything said about Doctor Blythe, despite his youth and the whispers of unnatural surgery that could apparently bring the dead back to life. And heaven knew, it wasn't right to have a doctor so completely unattached- who knew what clever young woman he would seduce?

Up on the roof, Gilbert had tried to control his temper, remembering the funny old professor who had been in general practice for twenty years. He cheerfully reminded them that a doctor was always at the mercy of the gossips- and that one must always be mindful that you never knew who was watching.

When Mrs Elliot had ushered Anne into the room to inspect the height of the hooks in the cloakroom, sharp eyes turned to each other knowingly. Of course, Miss Shirley was excellent fodder for gossip. Orphaned as a baby, mysteriously crippled nine years ago, after a terrible argument with a lover. And could it be true that she wrote? Miss Caruthers thought she had heard that somewhere.

Gilbert's eyes now found Anne as she finished packing away her desk with Susan, and he sighed. She couldn't know what people were saying, he hoped- and he fervently prayed that no one had seen him attending to her foot in the classroom before. He'd assumed Penny would wait there while he tended her. She'd been most insistent that he come swiftly and quietly- and then he'd forgotten himself. It was just like it had always been. The moment the two of them were alone, they simply forgot their surroundings.

* * *

Hours later Gilbert finally fell into a roughly made bed, rolling now stiff shoulders. He wasn't as limber as he'd once been, he supposed. Well, another community project was completed now- and Anne had been so thankful. He hadn't been able to say goodbye, he'd only waved across the crowded classroom, as everyone tried to farewell the teacher at once. She hadn't been overt, but he'd seen the little smile on her face and had one last glimpse of her grey eyes before she'd turned away.

As he lay in the darkness, Gilbert sighed. Something was changing. She'd been incredible- and so open. And while he could appreciate the comfort that age and life had evidently given them both, since his mother had spoken to him a shadow Anne seemed to follow him as well- the girl he remembered from so long ago. Gilbert pulled the bed curtains shut around him and now stared up into the darkness. It was odd. When he saw Anne now, he could see her too- and once he would have said that he missed her younger self. Her sparkle and lightness, the exuberance and youth of the girl he had fallen in love with.

Yet as he watched the real Anne now, he was startled to see that the phantom in his memory had changed shape. Had it really changed, or had he only understood her now? She hadn't been perfect, and his understanding of her certainly hadn't been. He remembered how she had turned from him, the way she would hold him at arms' length.

She wasn't that girl now. And yet as he watched the closeness they had unthinkingly fallen into, the closeness that frightened him far more than he would have thought possible, Gilbert kept seeing two Anne's; the girl of the past, and the woman she had grown into. Sleep was miles from him that night, as he wrestled with two people that could not be reconciled. He wasn't an idiot- the past few months had shown him that she cared, at least. Oh, it was cautious and guarded, and at times she would grow uncomfortable with him- but he knew her better than that. Didn't he? Or had that been a lie too? How could he know her and yet not understand her? And someone who cared couldn't have- she _wouldn't_ -

Gilbert exhaled. As he lay in bed on this night, he realised with a sinking feeling that it wasn't possible to completely wipe the past- it was here, with him. There was only one way to reconcile the two Anne's- and that was to understand what had gone wrong between the two of them. He'd fought this, tried to tell himself that it was no longer relevant to them. However, he knew better now. His mother had been right.

Because it was starting to matter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Anne arrived home from school on the day of her twenty-ninth birthday, her smile bright. She came into the kitchen as Susan was icing a cake and sat down at the table with a sigh.

"And how did your class go today?"

Anne beamed. "Lovely, Susan. I took the children outside to look for spring flowers."

Susan looked at her indulgently. "It's a mite too early for that here."

Anne laughed. "I suppose it would be too early in Avonlea, as well. Nevertheless, it's something I do at the end of every winter." A slight shadow crossed her face then, as she accepted the cup of tea from Susan. "Well, most winters. Last winter I was still at the rehabilitation clinic."

Susan gave her a quick glance. "You must nearly have been finished there, this time last year."

Anne nodded. "I was. Marilla and Diana came up for my birthday. They ordered a cake from a bakery and we had a tea party in my room." To Susan's surprise, Anne chuckled. "Diana gave me some impressively embroidered silk stockings- she wanted me to be able to cover the scars up with something beautiful. Marilla was quite shocked to see me open them in front of the staff who had tea with us." There was a pause then, and Susan looked up to see Anne struggling with tears. She often stayed silent when Anne mentioned the accident or Marilla, knowing she was learning to speak of them with openness again. "Marilla- gave me a beaded purse that had been hers when she was young- she said I should use it when I next went to a ball," Anne faltered, and Susan crossed the room to hold her for a moment.

For a moment there was silence, and then Susan's voice was brisk. "It's no wonder such things should come to mind now, dearie- but she loved you dearly. And there are plenty of other folks who do likewise. You have parcels on your bed from Diana and Mrs Blake, and I've laid your grey cashmere out. The water is heating for your bath, and I must turn my mind back to this blessed cake- we have a party to attend tonight."

The birthday party was a concoction between Susan and Penny, and Anne rose to ready herself for the evening. Anne knew only that the Winstons and most likely Gilbert would be there, and had cheerfully agreed to fuel Penny's love of company.

So it was with great surprise that Anne and Susan arrived that evening at the Winston house to see several buggies waiting- the Elliot's, members of the ladies sewing circle and some families from church. Bright lights and laughter echoing through the open doorway, and Penny was beaming as her red gown swished down the hall to welcome them inside. Anne's grey eyes were enormous at the sound, however, Penny only smiled, and was about to lead Anne in that direction when another knock at the door sounded.

Andrew opened the door to greet a sober Gilbert, who did not remove his coat. To everyone's surprise, he explained that he couldn't stay- that he had to leave for Charlottetown on the last train. Penny and Andrew expressed their disappointment, however, neither of them missed that it was Anne that Gilbert looked to in apology. She was quick to give him a smile that didn't quite reach her grey eyes.

"I- wondered if I might take a few minutes of Anne's time before I go," he asked lightly.

"Of course, Gilbert," Penny stated enthusiastically. "Anne, would you like your coat? It is rather chilly out there."

A bewildered Anne had her coat swiftly put back on despite Susan's protest, and found herself accompanying Gilbert outside to where his horse waited.

"I'm sorry to tear off so rudely, but I got the call about my patient an hour ago. I planned to stop by your house, but you'd already left- and I didn't want to give you this in front of the crowd in there."

" _Crowd_?" Anne said feebly.

He grinned then. "You know Penny. She loves to do a thing properly."

Anne began to laugh. "Yes. She's been behaving a little odd lately- have you noticed that?"

As a matter of fact, Gilbert had- and he had his suspicions as to why she was doing it. However since he had no desire to enter into that discussion with Anne unprepared, he answered lightly. "Perhaps she is making the most of her time before she returns to Montreal."

Anne willed her cheeks to not heat, her face carefully impassive. "Perhaps."

"Anyhow, I wasn't sure what to get you on your twenty-ninth birthday. After all twenty-nine is a special age."

Anne couldn't keep back a dry laugh. "Interesting. You mean the one that is one less than thirty?"

He shrugged, grinning. "Of course. I did it two and a half years ago. Best year of my life." Anne quirked an eyebrow, and he chuckled. "Alright, not really. It was my first year in Montreal. I don't think I slept for twelve months. But anyway, I wanted to give you this."

A brown wrapped parcel was placed in Anne's hands, and this time nothing could hide the way her cheeks coloured. Carefully Anne undid the green ribbon and opened it to find a pretty journal. She smiled, looking up at him.

"Thank you, Gil. It's lovely."

"It's for your writing." Her head came up in shock, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "I remembered what the English professors used to say about your work- and it bothered me when you told me you didn't write anymore. I know it's been awhile- but I wondered if maybe- when things aren't so hard- if it might be something you wanted to pick up again." To his consternation, she lifted her hand to wipe away a tear, and he found himself trying to make light of the gift. "But if you don't like it you can write- I don't know, knitting patterns in it or something."

This made her begin to laugh through her tears. "Gil, when have you ever known me to take down knitting patterns?"

"Maybe not being able to run made you need a new hobby."

He grinned as she slapped him on the arm, her eyes twinkling. "Only _you_ would joke about that." She held the book carefully in her hands and looked up at him. "Thank you, Gilbert."

Somehow Gilbert knew she wasn't only referring to the gift. "You're welcome." There was an uncomfortable silence, and he found himself reluctant to go, reluctant to leave this moment. "I'll most likely be gone for a few days- I'll stay to meet Jeremy off the boat."

Anne's wistful eyes followed him, as he turned to study the lamp on the street corner. He should be going- and yet how desperately she wanted him to stay. To be able to run gentle fingers over his brow, to smooth out the lines of worry that she saw there so often. She swallowed, wondering what it would be like to welcome him home from a long trip- to take his coat, kiss his tired face and care for him. To listen to the things that concerned him, or bring him laughter when the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. When Gilbert turned back to her she realised she had moved toward him unconsciously and stopped in pink confusion. The twisted smile was on his face when he met her eyes.

"I suppose-"

"That you need to go," Anne said softly. "You know that everyone understands, Gil."

"I know. I'm sorry it had to be tonight, though." To her surprise, Gilbert didn't move. "Do you- want me to bring you anything?" he asked with a grin. "Andrew wants me to pick up papers for him."

Anne's eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "A story." At the way his brown eyebrows flew up, she smiled. "Something interesting that you did while you were there."

This made him laugh. "I'll be at a hospital consulting over a heart disease case, not having wild adventures."

"Oh, I'm sure mischief can still find its way to you."

Gilbert's eyes never left her. Her cheeks were flushed, and he was close enough to see the way the amethyst brooch on her breast rose and fell with her quick breath. Much later he would wonder how he missed what her eloquent grey eyes were saying- but for now, he came to himself with a shake of his curly head.

"Anne, we should get you inside. You're the guest of honour- and I have to catch that train."

He held out his arm to her, and the two of them walked slowly towards the veranda. Gilbert turned to her at the door.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your party," he said lightly. "You can think of me rattling away on a cold train, and sleeping in a hotel room with questionable decor tonight."

At this Anne laughed. "Is this self-pity I see in you, Gilbert? For shame. Your younger self would call that an adventure."

He grinned. "He didn't have old football injuries to bother him- or trouble sleeping on strange beds."

Her hand was on the handle of the door, and for just a moment she looked up at him, smiling. She suddenly found herself blinking back more tears.

"What is it?" he asked her softly.

Afraid that he would see too much in her expression, she cleared her throat, her eyes falling. "Nothing. I'm just thankful."

A hesitant Gilbert went to speak, when together they turned at the creak of the gate. Owen Ford himself stepped out of the shadows, carrying an elegantly wrapped present with him.

"Doctor Blythe, Miss Shirley," he said with a curious look at the pair. "I expected to find you indoors enjoying the party."

Gilbert forced himself to smile. "I was escorting Miss Shirley inside. I have to catch the train now."

Owen nodded and turned to her with a warm look. "Miss Shirley, won't you allow me to escort you? The doctor can get on his way then."

Well able to feel the tension in Gilbert, Anne's startled grey eyes moved from one to the other- and was unexpectedly relieved to hear the door opening behind her, and Penny's head popping out to find her errant guest.

Gilbert stepped back with a now familiar frustration rising in his chest. Was this how all of their interactions would be from now on? Interrupted, again and again, coming so close to talking only to be forced to step back for propriety's sake. Gilbert gritted his teeth. This was _exactly_ why the two of them used to run for the woods in the old days. He looked up then at the sound of her voice.

"Thank you, Gil. It means a lot to me that you came. Travel safely."

Ignoring Owen's look of surprise at her familiarity, Gilbert grinned. "I'll be back underfoot before you know it. And- happy birthday." Anne smiled back and took Penny's proffered arm. She was ushered in out of the cold then, leaving both gentlemen on the doorstep.

Gilbert watched the man's shoulders fall as soon as soon as the women were gone, and he studied him in the dim light. "You didn't find her."

Owen rubbed his forehead, exhausted. "No. It's like she simply vanished."

Gilbert kicked at a rock near his foot and was silent for a time. Eventually, he spoke. "Owen, you knew her better than I did- you knew what hell her life was here. She needed to make a new beginning."

His brown eyes were hard. "I suppose we all have to, sooner or later."

Gilbert thought of Anne and sighed. "Yes." He checked his watch and turned back to the man who had slumped onto the veranda step. "Ford, I do know what this is like."

Owen gave Gilbert a cool look. "And what's that?"

Gilbert paused, his voice quiet. "Losing the person you love."

Owen gave a bitter chuckle. "Come now, Gilbert, I very much doubt that you understand this. You don't seem the type."

At this, Gilbert lost his patience. "Are you so lost in your grief that you think you are alone? You think no one else has ever been through this before? For Pete's sake, you wrote _The Life Book!_ You _wrote_ about the grief of another man losing his love!"

Owen stood up, his face mocking. "Well, it seems that Wilde was right. Life does imitate art. I wouldn't bother trying to empathize, Blythe. You've got a train to catch, and I have a party to attend."

Gilbert curtly nodded. As he stepped on board the waiting buggy, he could hear Owen's smooth greeting to his hostess, and the door closed the warmth and noise of the party away from him. He pulled the buggy onto the road, his mind working furiously. He'd puzzled at Owen's behaviour for weeks now- he'd come here for Leslie, bought a house so far from society purely for her- only she wasn't here. He was bored, he was restless. He shivered slightly as he pushed Hippocrates to a jog, hoping that Stan had the stall ready for him. He always had. As the station came into sight Gilbert let out a long breath. He had a lot to do over the next few days, he needed to keep his mind on his work. _Not_ on the fact that Susan had let slip the fact that flowers arrived from Mr Ford almost weekly for Anne- or that he somehow found time in his writing schedule to come calling on her once or twice a week. No, Gilbert had attempted to not dwell on that at all.

Far too quickly he found himself alone in the dim carriage, rattling away from Four Winds. As the movement of the train rocked him, Owen's behaviour toward Anne shifted into focus. Gilbert knew Owen had loved Leslie Moore- he knew that he had searched for her. He'd wondered then, why he had put so much effort into courting another woman's attention.

As the lights of the town he lived faded into blackness, Gilbert's hazel eyes were troubled. All of that was true. But now he saw the hopeless look in Owen's eyes and the same reckless and angry behaviour that a distraught Leslie had once described to him. With a sinking heart, he understood.

He was now preparing himself to not find her.

* * *

Several days after the party, Anne was sitting at the kitchen table doing her schoolwork, after insisting that she had far more need of company that comfort. Susan talked cheerfully while she worked on supper, telling Anne the news from the market and what she had collected from the post that day.

"Mr Flagg slipped in some of those pencils you have been buying lately, as well. He thought you might have need of more now."

Anne chuckled. "Since his eldest daughter won two of them a few days ago, I'm not surprised."

Susan gave her a shocked look. "Why Anne, what on earth are you doing with them?"

This made the dignified Miss Shirley laugh. "For prizes, Susan dear- it isn't anything untoward. Some of my students are quite competitive, and I am using that to encourage them to pay attention to their spelling- which has been hard work this term. Addie Flagg was able to spell 'chrysanthemum' perfectly last week."

Susan looked at her dubiously. "If you say so, Anne dear. I always thought that children worked better when a strap made them do so."

Anne's auburn eyebrow rose. "Not in my classroom. Susan, please thank Mr Flagg for me. I'll need to order another box soon."

* * *

It was later that same afternoon when Gilbert Blythe drove from the Glen St Mary station, this time with a talkative Jeremy in tow.

"You really had to move so far from a hospital?" he said, looking out over the valley, clutching his bowler hat in the breeze.

Gilbert laughed. "Only a city boy would think that- three hours isn't far. And that's why I'm out here."

Jeremy grinned. "Well, it certainly seems to suit you. You look better than I've seen you in a while."

"You haven't _seen_ me for a while. Absence must make the heart grow fonder after all."

Jeremy slapped him on the back with a chuckle. "Have it your way. You're going to take me on your calls, aren't you? I wouldn't mind trying some kitchen table surgery, just for some drama."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You know the aim is to help them before they get to that point, don't you? But yes, you can come with me. Just no telling medical school stories to my patients."

"Like you putting that spleen under Murphy's desk?"

Gilbert grinned. "He was spouting off about women being unfit to be doctors. It had to be done."

The two of them talked all the way to Gilbert's house. Gilbert heard of the changes that had come to the hospital, while Jeremy listened eagerly to some of Gilbert's case histories. Mrs Leary welcomed them stiffly, proving herself immune to the charm that Jeremy exuded, and telling Gilbert that she would leave dinner in the oven for when the two of them were done 'gallivanting'.

Jeremy watched her exit the house with a disgusted look on his face. " _That's_ your idea of home and comfort, Blythe?"

Gilbert snorted as he stowed Jeremy's bags in the guest room. "Thanks, but I make home and comfort for myself. Not that I wouldn't love a housekeeper who didn't look at me like I was a pest." He looked up at Jeremy with a grin. "It's why I eat out so often."

Jeremy laid his coat on the end of the bed carefully. "And where are we off to tonight?"

Gilbert hedged. "Not here, I think. I'm taking you to see my patient, remember."

Jeremy sighed. "Not off the train for an hour, and I'm already on duty. I see it now, you just wanted help with your workload."

Gilbert's smile was amused. "You'd better freshen up. We're about to go and see the best housekeeper on the Island. Although don't tell my mother I said that."

Jeremy began to laugh. "Is this why your invalid is a favourite? Or why you called a colleague to come hundreds of miles just to see her?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Just before tea time that night, Gilbert pulled up in front of Anne's cottage, watching his friend leap down easily. As Gilbert secured the horse he heard an answering whinny come from the barn at the back of the cottage and smiled. Anne had told him of their adventures in keeping Guinevere- and he was surprised to see that she was learning to take the horse and buggy by herself- albeit hovered over by a very protective Susan, and other townsfolk in the know. Jeremy now looked up at the little house with interest.

"This is most irregular, Gil," he said cheerfully. "Normally I meet patients through a file, not in their homes."

Gilbert hesitated. "She- isn't your average patient."

"Oh?" His look turned devilish. "Some aged spinster who thinks the world of you?"

Gilbert's lip twitched. He'd been planning on telling him before they reached the house- and then he smiled. No, he could work it out for himself. "Close."

Jeremy chuckled. "The elderly ones always fall for you, don't they? Must be that Blythe charm."

Gilbert only nodded. "Well, let's not keep her waiting."

He strode to the door and knocked, hoping that Anne would answer herself- it was sure to be more fun that way. A grin crossed his face when Anne did indeed open the door.

"Gilbert! I-" She stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes at him. She knew that expression. A slight smile was on her face. "What are you up to?" she asked quietly.

"Anne, there's someone I would like you to meet." He stepped back so that Jeremy could see the woman who stood before him, and was rewarded by the look of complete and utter shock on his face. Gilbert watched Jeremy's head swing back to him, and at his silence gave as innocent a smile as he could.

From the doorway Anne looked from one to the other, her grey eyes huge, and a blush slowly crossing her face. The unknown gentleman must be Doctor Barnes, and from the look on his face, he had not been expecting her. She flicked a startled glance at Gilbert, noting his smug expression.

 _Aha._

"I believe you must be Doctor Barnes," she said politely, as neither gentleman seemed to recognise they were still on her doorstep on a cool day. To her amusement she watched him shake himself.

"Forgive me, _Miss Shirley_ ," this was said slowly, with a glance at Gilbert as he did so. "I do apologise for my rudeness. Doctor Blythe appears to have left some details out at my expense."

To his surprise Anne folded her arms, her eyebrow raised. "Oh?" Her sharp eyes had not missed the look of alarm on Gilbert's face, nor the grin Jeremy gave.

"Allow me to begin that again. It's an honour to meet you, Miss _Anne Shirley_." Anne was startled as she found her hand pressed with a kiss, and gave Gilbert a bewildered glance. Jeremy seemed untroubled. "It was most ungallant of me to stare, however I was expecting someone quite different."

Anne's eyebrow rose at Gilbert. "Indeed. You really should watch that, Doctor Barnes. Won't you both come in?"

She ushered the two gentlemen into the comfortable sitting room, and while she went to ask Susan to prepare tea, Jeremy rounded on Gilbert.

"You never thought to _warn_ me?"

Gilbert shrugged, his hands in his pockets, and a smug grin on his face. "Oh, I thought about it. I just thought it might be more fun this way."

Jeremy shook his head, his gaze piercing. " _Anne Shirley._ "

"In the flesh," Gilbert said calmly.

" _Anne of your island_ is your patient now."

"Correct."

Jeremy walked away shaking his head, stunned beyond belief. "It's her- Carrots, the slate-"

"Would you keep your voice down!" Gilbert hissed. "Yes. It's _that_ Anne. But she is my friend, and I wanted to consult you as a professional to see if there is anything that can be done about her injury."

Jeremy gave him an exasperated look. "Your letters are full of stories about all manner of patients, but you never thought to tell me that _she_ was here?"

Gilbert sat down in his customary chair with a sigh. "Look, it's- just complicated. How did I know you'd remember her?"

Jeremy gave him a long-suffering look. "You think I'd forget the beautiful, red-headed woman that you always brought up when you'd had a little too much to drink at college events-"

At this Gilbert's brows flew up in consternation. "So _help_ me, if you ever say anything to her about that-"

Jeremy drew in a deep breath and chuckled. "You know I won't. But what on earth _happened_ here? How are you even talking now?"

Gilbert shrugged, a faint smile on his face. "She's here. And I don't know- we just are. You don't know how I missed her," he admitted quietly.

The two gentlemen stood when Anne herself and Susan came into the sitting room a short time later, bringing with them a sumptuous tea. To Gilbert's surprise, Susan sat with them this time. She'd never done so when he had visited before- unless others had been there. Was that unusual? Was Anne uncomfortable for some reason?

As a matter of fact, Anne and Susan had had this argument within the first few weeks at Rosewood Cottage. Anne had been firm that the two of them were family, and when there was company, the two of them would entertain together- most of the time. It had escaped Anne's notice that this policy was foregone whenever Gilbert was present- mostly due to the uncomfortable feeling that Susan was intruding on something private.

She sat knitting in her chair before the fire, once Anne was comfortably sitting down. The conversation was lively, and soon it turned to Jeremy's surprise when he had first seen Anne.

Anne's grey eyes twinkled. "You were obviously expecting someone different, Doctor Barnes."

He gave Gilbert a sly grin. "I must confess that I did. Perhaps someone _older,_ and more infirm, wasn't it, Gil?"

Gilbert choked on his tea as Anne turned to him, her grey eyes now showing a glint of green. "That was only your assumption!" he retorted, and turned back to Anne, with a placating look on his face. "Anne, Jeremy likes to torment; I said nothing of the kind to him."

To his consternation, her eyebrows only rose, and she turned to address herself to Gilbert's friend. "So, Doctor Barnes-"

" _Jeremy_ , if you don't mind, Miss Shirley," he said easily, with a wink that made Gilbert scowl. "And may I also address you by your given name?"

"You may." Anne smiled wickedly. "I am curious, what was young Doctor Blythe like in medical school? I'm interested to see if his school days were any indication of his behaviour there." She grinned, seeing Gilbert's cheeks colour.

Jeremy leant in, his face carefully sorrowful. "He was very studious, Anne, and nearly broke my heart with his relentless devotion to his textbooks. I despaired of having someone who could join me as a conspirator for mischief- until I caught him putting the class skeleton's hand in someone's lab coat."

Anne burst into a peal of laughter, clapping her hands. "I knew it, I _knew_ you wouldn't have changed that much."

Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "We had a classmate who used to brag that nothing could rattle him-"

"Well, it rattled him, alright," Jeremy said blithely. "He ran screaming into the door. Knocked it clear off its hinges."

Susan looked mildly horrified by this, and Jeremy soon turned to tell her other stories that showed his classmate in a better light. Doctor Barnes was well known for his ability to read a situation, and easily interpreted the older woman's concern. As the four of them talked around Susan's plentiful food, his eyes wandered between Anne and Gilbert.

He'd known who she was the instant that he saw her- and Gilbert's silence on the matter was evidence enough. The girl he had heard about so often now sat across from him, her walking stick beside her, and the halting gait that spoke volumes to a trained doctor. However, it was her eyes that had him watching now- the grey eyes that sparkled when she spoke to and of her former schoolmate animatedly, the pretty colour that came to her cheeks whenever Gilbert teased her. After all of the woman he had tried to set Gilbert up with over the years, he couldn't help chuckling at the obvious reason for his failure.

 _Oh, Blythe…_ Jeremy thought with a grin. _You're done for this time._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The next evening, Gilbert and Jeremy sat before the fire in silence. Gilbert's lap was full of case notes, and he had conjured a textbook from his bookcase to consult as he worked. Jeremy sat across from him, one ankle resting on his immaculate trousers- in complete contrast to the mess he had been when assisting in a birth that afternoon. He had been taken aback when Gilbert insisted that he deliver the baby himself- his first since medical school. The arrival of the squalling nine-pound infant had caused the father to faint dead away in a corner, and Gilbert checked him over while the shell-shocked Jeremy pronounced the boy to be in perfect health.

Now, a hot bath and a change of clothes later, Jeremy set down the notes he had been perusing thoughtfully. "Sural nerve injury. The symptoms are consistent with the time frame since the accident."

Gilbert looked up, his pen hovering over the page. "Mm?"

Jeremy picked up his now cold tea, downing it in one, and passed Anne's file to Gilbert. "In either her first or second operation, they cut or stitched through something they shouldn't have- the nerve is probably entrapped in scar tissue."

Gilbert laid down his paper and studied hasty sketches the surgeon had added. A small knot in his abdomen tightened. He'd thought he knew the extent of Anne's case- but the notes she had handed his colleague the previous day had proved otherwise.

Gilbert set them aside, walking out to the kitchen to boil the kettle again. As he waited, he pulled the curtains aside, shivering slightly at the sound of the rain on a cool night. It would be enchanting if he could guarantee that he didn't need to go anywhere. With a sigh, he pulled the last of Susan's muffins from the tin and took a tray back to the living room.

"So what do you think?"

"I'll know better when I've examined her." Gilbert nodded and was silent, and after a moment Jeremy spoke. "What is it?"

Gilbert looked over to see his friend studying him and shook his head. "It's foolish."

"Oh?"

Gilbert gave a wry chuckle. "So don't bother telling me it's idiotic. I know."

Jeremy shrugged. "Fair enough."

Gilbert folded his arms, listening to the crackle of the old fireplace for a time. His words were deliberate then. "I was wondering why Anne didn't show me the notes in the beginning."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Jeremy raised his eyebrows at Gilbert's frown. "No? Not obvious?"

"Let's just say I would like to hear your opinion."

Jeremy stretched out his legs comfortably. "You're too close."

Gilbert ruffled his hair tiredly. "Look, let's say I hadn't already declared myself an idiot for questioning it. Back when I first saw the injury, we weren't. We were barely speaking. We've come a long way since then. I'm her doctor- and I'm her friend."

"All the more reason not to, I say." Jeremy chuckled then at the cross look on Gilbert's face. "Gil, do you know what I always admired in you as a physician? It was your professionalism. People trusted you to operate because you were always calm, always rational. You remember how I handled that family after my first surgery."

Gilbert couldn't keep back a laugh at that. "Come on, the patient was fine."

Jeremy grunted. "They hospitalized his mother for heart palpitations after I spoke with her."

The men shared a laugh then, and Jeremy settled back on the chair, patting his pockets to feel for his pipe. "You didn't do that. You never fell apart."

"I still felt it," Gilbert commented. "But you're changing the subject."

"No, I'm making a point. This one is different. You seem- very bound up in her case," Jeremy said slowly.

Gilbert shrugged uncomfortably. "Isn't that only natural? We've known each other since we were children."

"Yes. Natural. But not ideal when you are dealing with her as a patient."

"Which is why I wanted someone else to see her," Gilbert added reluctantly.

Jeremy chuckled. "Well, I am. I admit I was curious to see what she would be like, after all of your stories back in college."

Gilbert spluttered at this. "Come on, I can't have said that much to you back then-"

"Winner of the Avery, seven freckles on her nose- and I'm taking your word for that, by the way- and she once wrote something about baking powder?"

Gilbert rubbed his unshaven jaw sheepishly. "Fine, you've made your point."

"And she's certainly one of the most intelligent women I have met."

"She is."

Jeremy studied him carefully. "Beautiful, too." When only silence met his comment, he held back a smile. "You don't think so?"

Gilbert looked up then, his eyes suspicious. "Well, of _course_ I do- but it's hardly the only thing I see in her."

"Naturally." Jeremy stood then, eying Gilbert carefully. "Look, I'm seeing Anne on Wednesday afternoon, right?"

"Correct."

"Then any further discussion on her case can wait until then. You're not planning on hovering over my shoulder while I talk with her?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I've got patients to visit then, so- no."

"Good. I'll hand in my recommendations after that."

* * *

On the day of Anne's appointment, Susan dropped her at Glen St Mary's small bookshop. Anne stopped to breathe in the scent of the books and gave a wave to the man sitting behind the counter. He stood up stiffly to walk to Anne, his smile genuine.

"It's a rum old day today, Miss Shirley. Out of class early?"

Anne smiled. "I have an appointment, Mr George. I thought I could pass the time before it here."

"Just so, Miss Shirley. Let me know if you want something."

Anne moved around the aisles, delighting in the array of books on the crowded shelves. She had just picked up a volume of poetry when she started at a touch on her arm. She looked up to see Owen Ford looking down at her with a smile.

"We meet here again, Miss Shirley."

Anne smiled, by now quite comfortable with the enigmatic author. "What are you looking for today, Mr Ford?"

He smiled, brushing the brown hair back from his forehead. "Inspiration. I admit this has not been a productive day so far. My publisher will not be impressed."

Anne chuckled. "Even editors must feel uninspired at times."

Owen grimaced. "Did you know the harbour ice turns black just before spring, Miss Shirley? The view from my office is most unappealing."

"The warm weather must melt that soon, I believe."

Owen followed behind her, allowing himself to relax once out of sight of others. "And what are you looking for?"

Anne gave a shrug. "I would love to find some new poetry for my class. Something simple enough for the younger students to understand, and something for the older ones to begin to discuss together."

"Do you have many choices in the curriculum?" Owen asked idly.

"Oh, several. For my own sake, I would like to find something different."

Owen pulled a slim volume from a higher shelf, with a smile. "This is written by someone I met when I worked for the newspaper. Modern, elegant- although perhaps a little _risque_ for the classroom."

Anne smiled. "Eustace Britten- I haven't read him before. What was he like?"

Owen added the book to his pile easily. "He takes his coffee with three sugars." At Anne's surprised look, he grinned. "The newspaper world is not always exciting, Miss Shirley. I held an out of sight position for a long time." She chuckled then, pulling down another volume to study. "You know, I could bring some of my own selections over some evening. Your class may enjoy a wider choice of poems to study."

Anne chuckled. "You are fast becoming a literary agent, Mr Ford. Other authors should pay you a fee." She looked down at the small watch pinned to her suit and started. "I must be going, I'm afraid. I have an appointment in ten minutes."

Owen followed her to the counter and stood by patiently while she spoke with the bookseller. He placed his own purchases down and turned to Anne courteously. "If you can give me a few minutes, I would be happy to escort you."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Mr Ford, that really isn't necessary." Owen gave her a curious look, and Anne stilled herself in chagrin. Oh, the pressures of gossip in a small town… As the pair of them stepped outside the shop, Anne was concentrating on navigating the uneven ground with her stick and wasn't looking at Owen as she answered. "I am heading to the doctor's surgery, Mr Ford. So you see, I need no escort."

"I would feel better if I could see you there- the ground is wet, as you see. I hope you have not been unwell, Miss Shirley."

"Quite the opposite. However, Doctor Blythe has consulted with a colleague of his- an orthopaedic surgeon who specializes in injuries like my own."

Owen's look was casual as they approached the building. "Well, I hope he is able to offer you some assistance. To me, you appear to handle things quite well."

Anne smiled. "Most of the time I do. However, in the interest of remaining well, I will meet him."

Owen's look was curious. "Well, I wish you well. I will go home and see what my bookshelves have to offer your class, Miss Shirley. Shall I come by this evening?"

"I have a prior engagement, Mr Ford." She smiled then, mischievously. "However, Susan and I are at home tomorrow evening, and if I may say so, you have quite won her heart with your praise of her cooking."

Owen gave her an amused look as he stopped outside Gilbert's office, and was careful to maintain a discreet distance as people walked by them on the street. He leaned in slightly, his brown eyes challenging. "I don't believe it is her I have been trying to impress, Miss Shirley."

Anne watched him walk down the street, her face pale. He didn't mean- no, _surely_ he didn't.

* * *

When Gilbert arrived back from his rounds two hours later, he found a note from Jeremy stating that he had gone back to the house. Within minutes Gilbert was heading for home, impatient to find out what had happened.

Inside, his housekeeper was pulling a drab looking pie out of the oven, stiffly announcing that his guest was resting and that he had been _most_ flippant when she asked him to air his room out. Gilbert decided to let him rest, moving into his own room to change. When his jacket and waistcoat were left on the floor most uncharacteristically, he threw himself back on his bed.

There were steps, he thought with a groan. In his own mind, they had to get beyond this- they had to see what could be done.

And _then_ he could ask her what went wrong all those years ago.

He wasn't stupid. Something lay beyond that. Something that he'd never consciously allowed himself to consider- he couldn't- not yet. Something, however, that was filling his dreams. He laid his arm over his eyes, willing himself to ignore the visions that almost nightly would come for him now. Ghosts of a life he couldn't allow himself to dwell on until it was safe to do so.

He lay in silence for a time, until he heard a scratching at the door that made him laugh. "For Pete's sake, are you still pulling that trick?" he protested.

There was no response to this but more scratching, and a few minutes later a fully dressed Gilbert opened his bedroom door, pulling on an old woollen jumper. Jeremy stood by the door with a grin. "Always works, doesn't it? And what on _earth_ is that thing you are wearing?"

"Warm," Gilbert retorted. "That's all that matters. Now, what's going on with Anne?"

Ten minutes later, the two men sat at the kitchen table, Gilbert's arms folded, and his brow lowered.

"So it needs another operation."

Jeremy pulled the notes over to him. "Yes. However, this one would be to correct some of the damage done by the first two, and maybe help her regain some stability."

Gilbert's eyes were sharp. "Some?"

Jeremy sighed. "Yes. Nothing is going to fix it completely, that much is obvious. And I can't even blame the hospitals here- by the look of it, she's lucky to even have her foot. It must have been a hell of a mess."

"A more experienced one could have prevented some of the damage," Gilbert grunted.

"Naturally. But I doubt anyone on the island at the time could have done any better."

Gilbert pushed back from the table with a sigh. "Alright, so what do we do next?"

Jeremy's fingers drummed on the table, and he hedged, anticipating Gilbert's reaction. "Nothing."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jeremy ignored the tone of Gilbert's voice, his voice calm. "I gave my recommendation. And in the end, as is quite common, she decided that it wasn't practical at this time to do it."

"Practical?" Gilbert got to his feet and stormed to his bedroom. Jeremy followed, watching as the jumper was torn off and Gilbert began to pull his waistcoat and jacket on quickly. Jeremy stood in the doorway, refusing to move.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said, his voice rising.

"I'm going around there to talk some sense into her," Gilbert replied with a clenched jaw. "She's not thinking _logically_ -"

"I beg your pardon, her thinking was clear enough to me," Jeremy said flatly.

Gilbert's hazel eyes snapped. "Really? _You_ saw the charts. You've examined her. She can't feel where her foot is, half the time. I don't even know how often she's fallen when I didn't know about it. Every day I'm waiting to hear that she's hurt it seriously, and _I won't be able to help her._ "

"Gil, you're being an idiot-"

"I'm being a _friend_ ," Gilbert shot back.

At this Jeremy let out a cry of frustration. "Even friendship isn't this blind! Anne Shirley is not an extension of _you_!" His words echoed through the room as all of the colour drained from Gilbert's face. Jeremy drew in a deep breath and leant against the door frame. "Look, I would have preferred to discuss this rationally with you, but obviously that moment has passed us by. I am telling you, you can't go in there demanding a different answer. It's unprofessional, and it's not respecting her right to decide."

Gilbert turned to him, his eyes glassy. "Even if she could one day lose the ability to walk altogether?"

Jeremy frowned. "You know the answer to that. It's the patient's right. Gilbert, you have lost your objectivity- and with any one else on earth, you wouldn't be this way. And I think you need to ask yourself _why_." Gilbert sat down on the edge of his bed breathing heavily, and Jeremy came in the room to flop down beside him. "You know I'm right. You'd never let me go off the deep end like this." He was silent for a time and ruffled his hair awkwardly. "Gil, have you ever stopped to think-"

" _Don't_." Jeremy turned to him in shock, to see Gilbert's face set. "Please, don't. I can't go there."

Jeremy looked at him sharply. "Why ever not?"

Gilbert got up and went to pull on his jacket. "Look, I have to go and see her. I swear that I won't pressure. I won't try and change her mind. But I need to understand."

Jeremy rose to his feet, resigned. "Have you forgotten that we're dining with the Winston's in a few hours?"

"No. I haven't. Anne is supposed to be there as well. I'll meet you there at six this evening unless I'm done earlier."

"And if she doesn't want to talk about the operation?" Jeremy asked, watching Gilbert shrewdly.

"Then I will respect that."

Jeremy sighed. "Gil, don't let your concern for her overtake your common sense. That's all I'm saying."

Gilbert nodded, and closed the door behind him, leaving Jeremy in the house alone. "Heaven help all fools in love," he muttered, before falling onto Gilbert's sofa for a sorely needed rest.

* * *

When a slightly calmer Gilbert pulled up at Rosewood cottage, his knock went unanswered. He heard a faint sound coming from the rear of the house and cautiously walked through the gate to investigate. He stood still for a moment taking in the scene. In an old dress, Anne was sitting on the damp ground beside her flower beds, and aiming at the foot of a large tangle with a small hatchet. Gilbert saw the vigour with which she applied the tool and had an unpleasant feeling that her mood was as unsettled as his own. Strangely, the thought brought him a measure of calm.

"Is it safe to approach?" he asked lightly, and he watched as she turned to face him, her face unmistakably furious. _Thud_ , went the hatchet into the ground, and he watched as she pulled herself to her feet with the assistance of the garden chair.

"Do not start with me, Gilbert," Anne spat, shocking him completely.

He halted his progress across the lawn warily. "I just wanted to talk to you."

The sarcasm in her tone made him flinch. "Really? About _what_? About the fact that I am foolish enough to refuse help again? That I don't know what is in my best interests? Which tactic were you going to attack me with this time?"

An alarmed Gilbert watched the way she moved behind the chair unsteadily and put his hands up. "None of them, I swear, Anne. Please come and sit down."

" _No_."

He pulled back in dismay, watching her become unglued before his eyes. Cautiously he walked toward her, seeing the tear that fell down her cheek. "I just want to know how you are." When she moved away from him once again, he spoke slowly. "I thought you and I were done running away from each other."

Anne paused, and after a moment she moved around the chair to sit near him, holding herself stiffly. Gilbert, feeling more than commonly like an idiot tried his best to not rush in.

"Jeremy told you what your options were." He turned to see her icy grey eyes staring into the distance. "And you said no."

Another tear fell down her cheek, and he had to stop himself from wrapping her up in his arms. It was at this point that the true distance between them made his heart shatter- he couldn't breach her walls, nor could he assume he understood. He had to tread lightly here, or he would risk losing her trust altogether. " _Talk_ to me, Anne. Help me to understand. I was the one who pushed you to do this- and I would just like to know what happened."

She pulled her falling shawl around herself again. "I _can't_. I can't do it."

Gilbert turned to face her, for the first time seeing how difficult this was for her. "Alright. Can you tell me why?"

Anne's hands clenched in the thick wool, her breath uneven. "I- would need to travel. I'd be away for several months on my own in hospital. It would cost more than I can afford right now- and I would need to leave my livelihood behind to do it. And Jeremy said that there is no guarantee that it would work."

"Alright."

"And I _knew_ just what you would say- about the falls- about when I'm older and less able to walk- but I finally have some stability in my life- I can't give up everything now for the chance that it might fix me," she said passionately. "It's not worth it. I can't go back there."

Gilbert's eyes showed his pain. "What is it that frightens you so? You've had operations- you've seen enough hospitals to not be afraid-"

At this Anne pulled away sharply. "I've seen enough to never want to put myself there again!" she said furiously. "Gilbert, they aren't all _you_ there! I've been discussed by surgeons like I wasn't there- like losing my foot would merely be a clinical exercise. I've woken from anaesthetic violently ill, and not been able to control a single muscle in my body. I've been poked and prodded and not even given the dignity that I was taught was my right- I have had choices taken from me, I've been babied, and pitied and talked about- I can't _do_ it."

At the sound of her sob now, Gilbert didn't hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, his thumb stroking her shoulder while she cried. When she pulled away a few minutes later to find her handkerchief, he drew in a shaking breath. This wasn't the time, it _wasn't_ , he reminded himself.

"Anne, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you into this."

She shook her head then, pulling her limbs in tighter to herself. "I understand why you did."

He let out a long breath. "Anne, can I ask which of those is the biggest reason? The financial one, the memories or the limited chance of success?"

"Or the time away from school?" Anne replied. "All of them." Gilbert watched her unconsciously rubbing her injured leg. "If I were to sell the house, of course, the finances would be there. If I timed it correctly I could have the operation through the summer and not miss school." She swallowed. "However the fact that even someone of Jeremy's skill can't guarantee the outcome- that carries a good deal of weight."

Gilbert nodded, and was silent for a time, watching a bird hopping to and fro on a nearby branch. Over and over she'd been open with him- perhaps it was time to do the same. His voice was flat when he spoke. "Anne, if I'm to be brutally honest, I did intend to try to make you change your mind."

Anne shot him a glare that made him smile. "You think I couldn't tell that? I _know_ you, Gilbert Blythe."

"Is that why you armed yourself with a hatchet?"

"That was just a coincidence."

Gilbert kicked back his feet and folded his arms with a scowl. "I- may or may not have gone off at Jeremy when he told me. And he may or may not have told me off for overreacting." He looked up at Anne's faint chuckle, seeing her tuck loose red wisps of hair behind her ear.

"Did you listen?"

"Have I yelled about you for putting yourself at risk yet?"

Anne shot him a cross look. "If you are about to start, sir, then you know where the gate is." She caught his wry look and sighed. "Why _did_ you overreact? Why won't you treat me like any other patient?"

It took Gilbert some time to answer. "Because you're _not_ just any patient." The colour in her cheeks burned brightly at his words, and she turned to brush a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt. "Jeremy- he pointed out that when it comes to you I have no objectivity," Gilbert added with obvious reluctance.

Anne looked at him, startled. "Oh."

After an awkward silence, Gilbert gave a reluctant grin. "And he's right. Our history- the relationship that we have means that I can't be impartial. I'm not your doctor." He saw the way she pulled back from him in hurt and sighed. "I mean, that I can _function_ as your doctor. But I can't be an unbiased one. I don't want to see you hurt- and while it goes against everything I was trained to do, I wish I could override you to see you better looked after." To her surprise then, Gilbert chuckled. "And yet you're stuck with me unless you want to travel to see someone."

Anne turned her face towards the gradually warming breeze, shielding him from the consciousness that she felt. Did he want her to do that? "What do you think I should I do?"

Gilbert's elbows were resting on his knees, and his hands clasped. "Just what we've done, I suppose. I'm still qualified to care for you-"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"But we get a second opinion when we need one."

Anne's face was still pink, and she couldn't hold back a small smile. "It's hard to think of you _not_ being impartial, Gilbert. In AVIS meetings, in leadership at college- you were always logical and fair. It's one of the things people admire in you."

He smiled wryly. "Clearly, not in everything. I suppose the only thing I could equate it to, was if you found yourself teaching the children that I don't have. Could you be unbiased?"

Anne closed her eyes, praying that he hadn't seen the little flinch she gave. "I suppose I couldn't be impartial there either," she said slowly. "Not really."

"I guess you'd keep any son of mine in at recess for mischief." There was silence for some moments, but when he looked over at her, she was smiling.

"I think I would find it hard to not favour him, actually," Anne said honestly. The silence was longer this time, and she looked over to meet his frank look.

He stood up then, turning to look down at her. "Are you alright?"

Anne sighed and got to her feet as well. "I am. I'm sorry, Gilbert."

He frowned at her. "Whatever for?"

"You went to such trouble to get Jeremy here-"

Gilbert shook his head. "He was coming anyway. And at least we know now."

"Know what?"

"That, for now, the operation isn't practical," he said reluctantly. He gave a sardonic laugh. "And that I can't be trusted to be indifferent when it comes to you."

Anne's face was fierce, however in her eyes was a tenderness that made him catch his breath. " _I_ trust you. You know that." She stepped away, however not before he saw her eyelashes fall. "It was asking too much of us to expect otherwise, I think," she said in a low voice. "The one thing you and I were never able to be with each other was indifferent."

"No." In the silence, Gilbert drew in a deep breath. "So are you coming to the Winston's tonight? Can Jeremy and I offer you a lift there?"

Anne smiled. "Yes, and thank you, that will ease Susan's mind greatly."

Gilbert looked around him and frowned. "Anne, where is your walking stick?"

Before he could begin to lecture, Anne's chin lifted, her gaze steady. "I may or may not have been so mad that I forgot it when I came out here."

Gilbert grinned. "Eleven-year-old you would not be shocked at that." He held out his arm to her then. "Look, I know I've been a bit of an idiot. I hope you understand-"

Anne shook her head as her hand slipped into the crook of his arm. "I know why you were concerned. And maybe one day I will think about it differently. For now- I am content as I am. Can you accept that?"

His hazel eyes were accepting, but there was a warmth in his glance that he couldn't help. "I will." At the back door to the cottage, Gilbert stopped to check his watch. "Well, we're not due at Andrew's until six, so I'll hie me home to collect Jeremy, who is either sleeping or short-sheeting my bed right now."

Anne began to laugh. "Good heavens! I've heard the stories of what both Andrew and Jeremy were like- and I know _you_. Is Penny ready for the three of you to be together in one house?"

The grin he gave her may as well have come from the boy who once pulled her hair. "I don't know. But admit it- you wouldn't miss finding out."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

One late-winter evening, Penelope Winston pounced on the bedraggled, brown dog hiding underneath her little rose bush. Lizzie's good white tights were dangling from his grinning mouth, and Penny seized them both firmly.

"I do not know what Andrew was thinking, getting you," she muttered furiously, as she walked up the stairs to the covered veranda. "That he wanted his shoes chewed? No. That my best gloves would be an excellent liner for your basket? _No_." She placed the puppy down on his bed, noting that the fluffy tail now drooped in submission. She bent down, her look stern as she scratched him behind the ear. "And _don't_ think that this changes anything."

Her skirts swished out of the door, and Penny walked into the kitchen rubbing her temples. Their guests would be here soon, and she needed to focus. She could hear Mrs. Heyer talking with Lizzie, and hastened to check on the meal.

" _Aunt Penny_ doesn't do it like that."

Penny's gasped in horror at her niece's rudeness, however, the housekeeper only smiled. "Well, suppose we try it this way, for now, poppet?"

Andrew called for his daughter, and Lizzie tore down the hall leaving her aunt to apologize. Mrs. Heyer was matter of fact as her sturdy figure bent over the stove.

"No need to worry, Miss Winston. She's adapting to a big change."

Penny sat down at the table with a vacant look. "I don't understand- Lizzie was doing so well a few days ago. I do hope she will come to terms with it- I would hate to leave the three of you struggling together."

Mrs. Heyer gave her shoulder a comforting pat. "She's a sweetheart- and she's still got some grieving to do. There's plenty of time to adjust. Now, what time would you like me to serve the meal tonight?"

Penny stood up, her manner uncertain. "I think half past six will be fine, Mrs. Heyer. I-" here she stopped, trying to reconcile herself to being a lady of leisure again. "Are you sure there nothing I can do to help you?"

The housekeeper gave her a kind smile. "You better go and freshen up, Miss Winston- that blessed dog has left prints on your dress. Just pop it in the basket and I'll have it soaking in a jiffy."

* * *

Now dressed for the evening and moderately calmer, Penny moved around the sitting room adjusting drapes and cushions, not quite knowing what to do with herself. Mrs Heyer had everything in her capable hands, and Penny drew in a deep breath, reminding herself to be grateful for the older woman. Andrew and Lizzie would be well cared for, she knew that. She had an evening planned with friends and loved ones, and Montreal was less than a month away now. She looked in satisfaction at the pretty blue gown her mother had given her for Christmas in the sitting room mirror, knowing that it would stand up to the scrutiny of the Montreal socialites.

The doorbell rang just then, and in a minute that Penny would never fully be able to describe, chaos erupted. Lizzie ran for the front door just as Andrew checked to see why the dog was whining in the enclosed porch; Mr Flibbet, not one to ignore an opportunity, shot through the long hall in a streak of brown fur just as Lizzie collided with her aunt before the wide open door where Penny's bewildered guests stood waiting. Out of sheer instinct Gilbert lunged to catch the crazed pup, and Anne was neatly pulled out of the way by the tall visitor who stood behind her. Andrew untangled a sobbing Lizzie while Gilbert deposited the dog back in his prison- and through a throbbing head and elbow, Penny felt gentle hands assisting her off the ground. Through a daze she saw that the stranger's eyes were carefully trained towards the opposite wall- and in a blaze of shame Penny realised that the blue skirt had been partially ripped from the waist, and that the gentleman before her was desperately trying not to laugh.

Penny pulled her hands away sharply and gathered her skirts together. She turned to her brother to see a similar look of amusement on his face, and her blue eyes flashed. "Andrew Winston, the next time you decide to introduce a pet into this household, it had _better_ come in the form of a throw rug!"

With that Penny stormed away, leaving a stunned group behind her.

A short time later, all had calmed down in the household. While Lizzie was petted and soothed by her father and not one, but _two_ doctors, the gentlemen settled in the sitting room to wait for their hostess to return. Anne excused herself after a small interval to check on Penny and cautiously walked through the house toward the family rooms. At Anne's tentative tap Penny opened her bedroom door, once again dressed and beginning to feel terribly about the way that she had run off.

"Anne, I'm so sorry-"

Anne only smiled. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Penny sighed. "Oh, I think only my pride was bruised. I made myself utterly ridiculous."

"To be fair, I have made much bigger scenes," Anne said gravely. Both women began to laugh, and by the time Lizzie came to find her aunt both women sat talking comfortably from the sofa in Penny's room.

Lizzie sidled up to her, resting her head against Penny's shoulder. "Mrs. Hay says that dinner is ready if you would like to come."

"Mrs. _Heyer_ , dear. And Miss Shirley and I are coming now."

Lizzie sighed. "Aunt Penny, can't Mr. Flibbet come out now? He's very sorry."

"He will stay confined until our guests leave," Penny stated firmly. "I am not risking another dress on that dog today."

Anne smiled. "Well, your new gown is most fetching. You look perfectly lovely to meet Doctor Barnes."

Penny groaned. "Oh, I'd nearly forgotten him- what a terrible way to welcome a guest to our home! He must think us a madhouse."

Anne gave a little chuckle. "Penny, darling, I rather think he found it amusing."

This was evident when the two of them entered the dining room minutes later. Anne was settled courteously by Andrew, and as Jeremy went to pull out Penny's chair, he could not keep a little smirk from his face.

"Miss Winston! It's a pleasure to meet you, _sans_ dog this time."

To his shock, a stately Penny now turned to him, and her eyebrows rose. Jeremy started, looking foolish. Women just didn't respond to him this way- not at _all_. After a moment, he collected himself awkwardly. "Forgive me. I see that it is nothing you wish to joke about."

"No." Penny surprised him by lifting her chin, her blue eyes glittering. "However, if you could avoid all references to the disaster of a day I have had, Doctor Barnes, we should get along well enough."

Andrew choked back a laugh. He'd liked Jeremy a lot, and had the impression that very little could ruffle his feathers. Penny, however, was no novice when it came to dealing with teasing- most likely the result of having three brothers. He resolved to watch their interaction with interest and turned to talk to Anne with a little smile.

* * *

Several hours later, Andrew settled his guests in the sitting room while Penny tucked a yawning Lizzie into bed. Gilbert was the last of the gentlemen to come into the room and walked to Anne with her walking stick in one hand.

"And in front of two physicians, no less," he teased her quietly.

Anne rolled her eyes as he sat beside her, and placed the stick on her right. "I was escorted in here on the arm of your colleague, _Doctor Blythe_. Jeremy made sure that I was perfectly safe."

Penny came into the room then and sat down across from her brother with a sigh. "Drew, Mrs. Heyer will serve tea in a few minutes, so she suggested that we make ourselves comfortable."

"Lovely." Andrew then turned to Jeremy. "And when do you go back to Montreal?"

Jeremy relaxed against the sofa. "I have an Orthopedic conference in Kingsport next week, I head there on Saturday. I have enjoyed my time here through. Apart from being rudely awoken in the early hours by the telephone."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "You wanted to know what rural practice was like- and this is it."

Jeremy scowled. "And to think you could be in Charlottetown now if you chose! At least there you would have better resources."

Two pairs of eyes turned to Gilbert in shock then, and inside, he flinched. He gave Jeremy an artificial smile. "It wasn't an official offer."

Jeremy raised one eyebrow. "They asked you to run the surgical department at the hospital. They practically begged you to move last week."

Gilbert tried not to look at Anne as he replied. "It's nothing. Things like this come up all the time."

"Not for everyone, they don't. You've been offered more positions than _me_ \- and we both know that's saying something," Jeremy stated.

"And yet I chose to be here," Gilbert said lightly.

Anne's face was calm as she tried to process an utterly terrifying train of thought. How had she not considered this? How had she not thought about the possibility of him leaving Four Winds? An indefinable panic seemed to rise in her chest, and it was with an effort that she controlled the shaking in her hands. Months ago she could have expected this- months ago she could have seen him leave, and simply borne the hurt. Now, _now_ -

To her surprise, under the cover of Jeremy's conversation with Andrew Gilbert had leant in to her, his voice low. "Anne, just breathe." She turned to face him in shock, and he kept his eyes averted. "I know the talk of the hospital scared you. You don't have to worry- you don't need to go back."

Somehow terrified that he had read her mind, Anne's breath caught. "No, I'm- I'm fine-"

"Anne, you're pale, even for you. It's what I was talking to you about months ago- the after-effects of the trauma."

Anne was silent for a moment and summoned a bright look. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You're right. We were leaving the past in the past, weren't we?"

Gilbert halted at her words and gave Anne a strange look. "Is that what you want?

No longer sure what they were talking about, Anne faltered. "I- want the people that I care about to be happy."

He seemed to take a moment to process her words, and gave her a faint smile. "That's what I want too."

The odd tension between them had become almost painful, when Andrew broke into the conversation.

"Anne, there is something I am very curious about."

"You know what they say about curiosity, Andrew."

"I'm not worried. I have a question for you, Anne, about our good friend Gilbert here."

Anne felt the man in question stiffen beside her, and stilled herself. "Oh?"

"You and Gilbert became friends when you began teaching together."

"Yes."

"And you knew each other for some time before that."

Anne hesitated. "Five years, to be precise."

Andrew's look was carefully serious. "I suppose the girls and boys of Avonlea did not form friendships at that stage."

Gilbert eyed his friend suspiciously, something that neither Jeremy nor Andrew missed.

Anne cleared her throat, hiding a smile. "They did. However, it is true that Gilbert and I did not."

He grinned. "I should let you know that I am a very good lawyer, Anne. I expect I will figure out the truth eventually."

Anne laughed at his smugness. "Andrew, as enjoyable as this is, it's no secret. You could ask anyone in Avonlea."

"But we're not _in_ Avonlea."

Anne only smiled innocently, making Andrew chuckle. "Gilbert," Andrew said, his mischievous eyes not leaving Anne's, "Why were you not friends with this lovely lady when you were children?"

Gilbert's startled glance found Anne's, and she gave him a slight smile. "And the reason for the sudden curiosity?" Gilbert asked, in what he hoped was a detached manner.

"Because you've never answered me before. And now we have witnesses."

Penny shot her brother an alarmed glance. "Drew, perhaps Anne and Gilbert don't wish it to be discussed now-"

The unspoken tension between them made Anne rather reckless now, and she glanced at Gilbert in challenge. " _I'm_ not afraid. We are amongst friends, after all."

Gilbert smiled blandly. "Certainly. Although it's hard to say who came off the best that day."

"I always felt that _I_ did."

" _I_ still had a slate at the end of it, though."

" _Ahem_." The heads of the brother and sister had been swiveling between the two of them with interest, and now turned to Jeremy. His smile was cherubic. " _I_ could tell them what happened if you like."

Gilbert gave his friend an amused glance, missing the look of shock on Anne's face. "There's no need for that. We're all adults here, after all."

By now Anne had regained her poise and smiled wickedly. "After you, Doctor Blythe."

Gilbert sat back easily. "Very well, then. On Anne's first day of school, I pulled her hair in the middle of class."

Anne smiled sweetly. " _And_?"

" _And_ then I called her Carrots."

"Oh, Gilbert!" Penny said in reproachfully over Andrew's choke of laughter.

To her surprise, Gilbert turned to Anne. " _And_?"

"And _then_ I broke my slate over his head."

Andrew was laughing uproariously at this juncture, and Penny turned to Anne in shock.

"I've always been rather sensitive about my red hair," Anne said delicately. "Not something a thirteen-year-old boy would take into account."

Penny chuckled. "I- well, I just can't picture the two of you behaving that way. Five years, you said?"

Anne smiled. "Well, I was quite upset. I am proud to say that we've both grown up since then."

"And everyone saw it?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," Gilbert said matter of factly. "It was the talk of the town for weeks. My father was furious."

Anne's head came up swiftly. "With me?" she asked him. Gilbert shook his head, unaware that the rest of the room was watching the two of them with wide eyes.

"No, with _me_ ," he said carefully. "After all, _his_ son tormented Marilla Cuthbert's girl."

Anne swallowed. "Oh."

To the rest of the room, this fact seemed insignificant. How then to account for the uneasiness of words unspoken? Andrew's startled glance found the other gentleman across from him, and Jeremy gave him a slight nod. Andrew cleared his throat then. "Well, I suppose that explains _that_."

Anne's look was oddly thoughtful. "It was a very long time ago. It's strange- I didn't realize then that holding resentment against someone kept them ever closer to you."

Across the table, a startled Gilbert glanced at her. "Oh?" he asked lightly.

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she realised that she had spoken without thought. "Holding onto that anger kept you right by me."

Six years swam before Gilbert's mind now, and he swallowed, hoping that she couldn't see through him at that moment. "I suppose it did."

* * *

Later that night, Jeremy waited in the wagon as Gilbert walked Anne to her door. On the step, Anne hesitated. "Gilbert, may I ask you something?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. "Of course."

Her eyes fell, as she held her purse close to herself. "There are things I never asked Marilla- perhaps I assumed that I had time." She swallowed, and in the moonlight, he saw her grey eyes fixed on his shoulder. "Gil, did your father ever tell you why he and Marilla argued?" Gilbert looked at her in shock, and she rushed on nervously. "When we became friends I felt that a bridge between them was mended as well- only I never asked what it was."

Gilbert scuffed his shoe on the stone steps of the cottage, and eventually nodded. "He said something stupid- and he regretted it immediately."

Anne unconsciously stepped closer to him. "What was it?"

"He poked fun at Matthew." Anne moved in shock, and Gilbert caught her arm automatically before she could stumble off the step. She straightened up as his hand released her gently, and she looked at him, bewildered.

"Why- _why_?"

Gilbert shrugged. "They were seventeen and eighteen. Dad was a tease- and he hit on something that really hurt her, I guess. She wouldn't forgive him. And he thought that if she couldn't see how sorry he was, then he wouldn't try again." He gave a bitter laugh. "Like father, like son. You can see why he was mad at me for making fun of you."

Anne nodded after a moment. "Marilla was very protective of her family. Even I found that." In the silence of the cool night, she let out a long breath. "Gil, she forgave your father long ago. She was always sorry that she didn't when he asked her to." Gilbert nodded without looking at her, and seemed ready to turn away. To her own surprise, Anne reached out, her finger tips catching his gloved hand. When he turned back, her grey eyes were wistful. "So was I."

The moonlight caught his lean face, and he smiled faintly. "Anne, I know that. We're neither of our parents."

When a gust of wind blew around them, some spell appeared to break, and Gilbert became aware of Jeremy waiting in the cold. He touched her arm lightly. "We'd better head for bed. Night, Anne."

After he had left, Anne walked inside only to rest her head against the closed door for a moment. Susan came to meet her, taking Anne's coat and gloves.

"Is anything the matter, dearie? Did Doctor Blythe and Doctor Barnes see you home safely?"

"They did." Anne sighed, and began to rub her tired face. "Susan dear, history is a very funny thing. We can't help but fear repeating it."

Susan steered an exhausted Anne towards her room to change for the night. "Well, I can't argue high sounding speeches with you- but I do think that a good cup of tea can cure anything. Let's get you to bed."

Back in the buggy, both men were silent. Jeremy helped unsaddle Hippocrates when they reached Gilbert's house, talking quietly to the horse as he rubbed him down. When the gentlemen went inside, Jeremy went to walk up the stairs, and suddenly stopped. He turned to see Gilbert staring out the living room window, and spoke quietly.

"Gil, you need to talk to her."

The man across from him drew in a deep breath, and the light of the lantern caught his face.

"I know."

* * *

Friday night found Anne and Susan in the sitting room, Susan at work on a tablecloth, and Anne stretched out listlessly on the sofa. The day had been a particularly trying one, and she was forced to admit that one of her most troubled students was not responding to her well. She was just contemplating putting herself to bed with a book when the doorbell rang.

"That should be Mr. Ford, I believe," Susan said comfortably.

Anne looked up in consternation. "Why, Susan?"

Susan got to her feet. "I ran into him at the store, dearie. He was concerned about you after your doctor's appointment, and I told him that you would be at home tonight." As she walked out to answer the door, Anne let her face fall onto the cushion beside her with a groan. She really should speak to Susan about giving her advanced warnings of plans- however, Owen rarely gave any warning that he was coming, usually quite late in the evening.

Anne rose from the pillow and began to tidy the sofa around her. She could hear Owen talking with Susan and sighed. He had a pleasant voice- but not the one made Anne light up the previous evening, when Gilbert had brought Jeremy around for a farewell call. It had been a lovely night- Jeremy and Gilbert had told tales of their medical school days, about crusty professors and broken specimen jars, of staining their hands with chemicals and Jeremy accidentally stitching himself to a patient. Susan had looked things not lawful to be uttered, however, Anne laughed as she hadn't for so long. She had watched the pair of them in wonder. Gilbert had always had chums- but never had she seen him like this, so free and easy with anyone else but _her_.

Now, she stood up just as a smiling Owen was shown into the room, carrying a large bunch of flowers with him. Anne accepted them from him with an uncertain look. Extravagant gestures often made her uncomfortable, reminiscent of another man she had once fancied herself in love with. She much preferred it when Owen would produce a book of poetry, and the two of them would sit discussing the merits of Coleridge or Tennyson- there at least, she felt her foot on her native hearth.

Owen had a small book with him as usual, one written by an old school friend this time.

"Jackson Wynn was a year ahead of me in college. He's been over in India for a year now, and this book was written over there." Owen smiled. "The merit of having a job with no fixed location, I suppose. A writer may go anywhere, become anything."

Anne's needle moved through her doily without haste, and she glanced up with an interested look. "They can. Where would _you_ go, Mr. Ford?"

His smile curved on his handsome face. "Japan, I believe. The mysteries of the Orient- cherry blossoms in the springtime- the virgin moon rising over Mount Fuji. I can think of nothing more inspiring."

Anne smiled, thinking wistfully of a moon rise over a garden now far away. "There are so many lovely places. Many of them right around us, if only we have the eyes to see them."

Owen crossed his legs, and Anne had an odd look as he settled into Gilbert's chair. "And where would _you_ like to go, Miss Shirley?"

"I have always loved my own island the best," she said lightly. "Although I should like to one day see the beauty of the Old World. I had a friend who spent time in Rome last winter- and she is heading for Venice later this year."

Susan had made herself conspicuously absent that evening, and when she finally she came in, it was with a tray of supper that made Owen light up.

"Miss Baker, you are the queen of pies," Owen said, giving the housekeeper a devastating smile. "This strawberry shortcake would melt in one's mouth."

Anne hid a smile at the way Susan preened. When he had eaten and praised, and the two of them were once more alone, Owen placed his plate down with an appraising look at Anne.

"Miss Shirley- do you think at some point you may relent and give me the name my parents bestowed on me?"

Anne chuckled. "Perhaps one day, Mr. Ford."

"Your own means grace or favour, I believe," he commented, studying her face.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she answered lightly. "You are correct. Do you often have the inclination to study names?"

Here he gave a short laugh. "As an author, I find it necessary, Miss Shirley."

To his pleasure, Anne leant forward, her eyes alight. "I have been meaning to tell you that I recently re-read The Life Book, Mr Ford. I enjoyed it, even more, the second time, I think."

Owen nodded, his smile genuine. "It's a shame you never had the chance to meet Captain Jim- he was the very soul of the book."

Anne hesitated then. "Mr. Ford, may I ask you a question?"

Owen sat forward, his gaze steadily on Anne. "I would love it if you did."

"I'm sure it's not that interesting. I was curious about the story of Lost Margaret."

Owen's eyes were on the fire, and he sighed. "Yes. The love of his life."

"You wrote as if you understood his heartbreak."

There was a silence then, and he turned to her, an odd hunger in his eyes. "I do. There is a fellowship, I believe. Of those of us who have known the bitterest pain."

Anne's eyes fell under his intense gaze. "I- I suppose so."

His cool hand reached across to grasp hers, and she looked up at Owen in shock. "You know that pain, don't you? I can see it."

In the pregnant silence, Anne withdrew her hand from his and tried to smile. "Heartbreak is universal- we cannot claim to be the only ones."

Owen sat back, his voice cool. "So I have been told. And time is supposed to heal it, apparently."

Anne ignored the brittle comment and spoke softly. "Who was she?"

Through the lock of brown hair falling on Owen's forehead, Anne easily read the pain in his eyes. "A ghost, Miss Shirley. _'Only this and nothing more,'_ " he quoted with a sigh. "I came here to find her- but she will not return. And I begin to feel that this enchanted shore is a land I should not have come back to."

Anne's look was gentle. "Sometimes we need to face what we are most afraid of. It may be that you needed to come for closure."

"Or for a new beginning." Owen looked at Anne intently. "What would a new beginning look like for you?"

Anne's cheeks paled when he leaned in close. "A life well lived," she said at last, with an attempt to smile. "Something I work toward daily. Mr. Ford, perhaps the only difference between us is that I am where I need to be right now. You must find where you belong, enchanted shore or not."

To her surprise, his look was tender. "Perhaps so, Miss Shirley."

An hour later, Owen stood by the front door, his coat over his arm. His look held a frankness that Anne had not yet seen in him, and for a moment she studied his face. "Miss Shirley, please allow me to tell you what your company has meant to me over the last few months."

Anne shook her head with flushed cheeks, carefully stepping away. "I- it was nothing."

To her shock, Owen took her hand in his again. "Miss Shirley- or I may say, _Anne_ \- it has been a long time since I have met someone I can talk to with any degree of openness- and somehow I feel that you understand. That is a gift. When I am with you the world does not look so hopeless- and I begin to see what you mean about a life well lived. Thank you."

With a gentle kiss on her hand and a parting look Owen left, and Anne stood in the dim hallway, her grey eyes troubled. In the silence that followed, Susan came to meet her.

"Mr. Ford has left?"

"Just now. Susan, why didn't you tell me that he was coming tonight?"

Susan looked surprised. "I didn't think to, lamb. He often arrives unannounced. He is very attentive, and you often seem to enjoy his company."

Anne's chin rose. "I do- and he is a pleasant friend. However, I would like to have some warning before he visits in the future. I really know him very little." She took her stick in one hand and began to walk towards her bedroom.

Susan followed to fold down the counterpane. "Perhaps he _wishes_ to know you that well, Anne dearie. He's rich, and kind and handsome- do you think that if you gave Mr Ford a chance, that he might be good for you?"

Anne turned from her window. "Susan, you are darling to be concerned," she said, her voice quiet. "But I am quite content as I am. He is not what I would look for in a husband."

Susan sighed, seeing in Owen someone who could take care of Anne properly. "Then what _do_ you want, dearie?"

A sad smile curved on Anne's lips. "Someone who belongs in my life."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Anne sat outside on an afternoon in early April with a letter from Diana in her hand. The early spring day was warm, and absently she looked down at her garden bed. The roses had begun sprouting tentative leaves, and she smiled to see a clump of white iris growing by the fence. With a sigh, she opened the letter again.

 _The Williams family are staying with some cousins right now- however, Fred says that they are keen to begin farming right away. There is a part of me that doesn't want it to happen, darling, but if you want to sell Green Gables then I believe that they would care for the place as Marilla did. Their two children are Fred and Anne Cordelia's age, and are both such dears. Mrs. Williams horrified the Harmon Andrews clan when she mentioned that she had tried her hand at plowing- and it did make me laugh. It's something I could have seen you doing, once upon a time. You did beg for Matthew to show you._

 _We showed the family through the house as you suggested, and I explained that you are yet to move the family belongings from the attic- they quite understand, as they only recently lost their grandmother last year- I believe that her legacy to them is what will set up their own farm now. Let us know how you wish to proceed; if it eases your mind to not have an empty Green Gables hanging over your head, then sell it, darling. Your home is here still, no matter wherever else you may live, and we are quite desperate to see you again- dare I hope that a visit may happen soon in that case? We had the Blythes up for tea a few weeks ago, and Mrs. Blythe mentioned how nice it was to see you again. It's lovely to see them getting out more._

 _Fred asked me to pass on his regards to Gilbert, (something I am still not used to saying to you) and I am glad to hear that the Winstons have been a source of support for you both. What will you do when Penny leaves Four Winds?_

 _I must leave off, dearest, little Fred needs me to help him with some sums- oh, where is his smart Aunt Anne when he needs her?_

 _Let me know what you wish me to do with regards to the house. Mother asked me to let you know that she will help me to get the house ready when you say that it is time, you won't need to worry about a thing. We love you dearest, and please give our thanks to Doctor Blythe as well. Between him and Susan, I feel quite confident that you are well looked after._

 _All my love, Diana._

A myriad of emotions flooded Anne at that moment, and she closed her eyes, trying to process them.

It was severing a tie to Avonlea. It was sensible, it was practical to do it. For that matter, it was exactly what Marilla would do. Four Winds was her home now- and she knew that she would not be returning to Green Gables. Matthew and Marilla wouldn't have wanted their home to fall into disrepair, they had loved it so- they would want it cared for. She herself had lived and been loved so deeply there- and her memories could not be taken from her.

Anne let out a long sigh and stood up carefully. She wandered over to the clothesline, where Susan had hung her dresses up from the week, and grimaced at the sight of the black, and grey clothes that hung there. Susan had given Anne a gentle hint last week that the clothes stored in the attic could do with an airing, however, the letter in her pocket only reminded her again that Marilla was gone. She breathed out slowly. Soon, she had said. Anne blinked back a stubborn tear. To sell Marilla's home, and to give up mourning for the only mother she had ever known- it was too much to deal with right now, surely. The clothing would bide its time.

From the fence of the cottage, she could look over the valley, and a tiny corner of the gulf was visible from under the pines. Anne stared at it hungrily- it was as close as she had been for months to the water. She stood watching the bright triangle and lifted her chin. Somehow, she would find a way.

Deliberately, Anne took her stick in hand and walked inside to ask Susan if she would mind taking her into town- her foot had been numb that day, and Anne felt it best to not wrestle with a restless Guinevere by herself.

A short time later, Anne was seated in Andrew's office, waiting for him to find the papers in his filing cabinet. She looked around, smiling at the small photograph on Lizzie and Penny on his desk, and a picture that must have been of his wife. She had a sweet face, and Anne gathered that she must have been quite petite. She looked at the man before her with a little sigh. To lose the one you loved from this life- how had he borne it? Anne suspected that his daughter must have helped him continue. She sometimes saw a look on his face that reminded her of Matthew- Matthew who had called her _his_ girl.

To her surprise then, the door behind her crashed open, and a man in white shirtsleeves leapt inside.

" _Yes_! Winston, Congratulate me, I am the _king_ of-" Gilbert cried boisterously, before halting in shock at the sight of the red-headed woman before him. "Anne!"

The laughter bubbled up in Anne to see Gilbert so gleeful, and she teased him. "Well, do carry on, Gilbert. Of what are you the king?"

He swung himself around to sit on Andrew's desk with a happy grin. "Of _life_ , Anne. A woman is going to have an operation that will save her life, that's why. I found what was wrong. Ten years ago she would have died, and no one would have known what was wrong with her."

Andrew snorted. "He does this to me all the time, Anne. Endless self-congratulation- it's a wonder I get anything done with the constant interruption."

Gilbert sat down in the chair on Anne's left with a big sigh, his look satisfied. "I have enough times where I can't do a thing to save someone- just let me have this one."

Anne smiled at him. "Well, congratulations, doctor. You should be very proud."

Gilbert turned to her while Andrew laid papers on the desk. "If it isn't prying, what did I so rudely interrupt?" he asked lightly.

Andrew was silent, and he turned to his appointment book to give them some privacy.

Anne spoke quietly. "Someone wants to buy Green Gables- and I have decided that it is time to sell."

"Not Charlie and his tennis court?"

She chuckled. "No. A young family keen to farm in the area. Someone who wants a new beginning."

Gilbert paused and then nodded. "I see. And it's what you want?"

He saw the range of emotions cross her face, and she smiled sadly. "I think so, yes. Is it terrible that I should want that now?"

Gilbert's hazel eyes were kind. "Of course it isn't, Anne. But are you quite sure?"

"I believe so."

Andrew lay some pages before her and held out a pen. "If you sign here, I'll put this into motion for you."

He was watching her as she took the pen in her hand, and held the tip above the page in hesitation. Unbidden thoughts assailed her- _It was always the place I could go home to… It was where I wanted to run when my world fell apart._ Anne swallowed, and after a moment looked at Gilbert in mute appeal.

Andrew stood up then, meeting Gilbert's startled eyes. "You know, I have to get something from the back, would you excuse me for a moment, Anne?"

Understanding his unspoken message, Gilbert turned to her when Andrew had gone, bending down to look into her troubled face.

"Anne, you know you don't have to do this," he said directly. "If you're not ready, then you're not ready."

Anne's smile twisted. "I know. I do think it's the right thing to do- but it doesn't make the deed of signing it any easier. It's so final." She paused, and Gilbert studied her wistful face. "Marilla almost sold the house once before, you know. Before she knew I wasn't taking the Avery."

Gilbert nodded, remembering the girl she had been at sixteen, and the Green Gables that had forever been closed to him. Only months later she had stretched out her hand- months later, and he would grow to know the old house almost as well as he knew his own.

His voice was gentle. "I'm glad she didn't. You both needed to stay then."

Anne's grey eyes shone with tears, and she swallowed. "You made it possible for us to do so."

Gilbert clenched his hand suddenly, unable to process the emotions coursing through him. He cleared his throat and met her eyes when he could safely do so. "Are you sure you don't need more time?"

Anne gave a wry chuckle. "No- just the courage to sign the paper, Gil. I never knew it could be so difficult to sign my name."

Gilbert grinned at her. "Come on, as a principal I'll bet you had to do it a thousand times. You're more than a match for a piece of paper."

Andrew heard her laugh and poked his head out of the other room. "Are we ready now?"

"Yes." As Andrew sat down again, she looked down at the piece the paper, and before her swam the words: I, Anne Shirley, being of sound mind-

She sat still for a moment, frozen. Gilbert watched her, and when he saw her shaking he breached an unseen divide to take her other hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Anne turned to him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and his glance was steadying. "Only if you're sure, Anne."

She nodded and after a deep breath, she signed her name on the papers before her. When she was done a sigh of relief came from her mouth, and the two gentlemen chuckled.

"Better?" Gilbert asked her, while Andrew gathered up the papers.

"Much. Thank you," Anne said quietly, and unexpectedly smiled. "For needing to brag at just the right time today."

"Oh, he's in here all the time. I've often asked him to witness things before," Andrew commented dryly. "He isn't usually so flamboyant in his entrance, though. That was something special."

Anne chuckled, trying to still herself from the emotion of the moment. "I _do_ remember you being very flamboyant strolling around Kingsport in an apron and bonnet."

At the speed in which Andrew's head came up, Gilbert groaned. "You know, I could have gone a lifetime without him hearing that particular story."

Andrew was laughing uproariously now. "How could you not tell me about that? Did you do this often, Gil? Oh, tell me it had frills on it- wait, Anne, draw me a picture, I need to see what he looked like-"

Anne rose from her seat with a twinkling smile. "Perhaps another time, Andrew. Susan is waiting for me. We don't want to embarrass Gilbert too much- although perhaps you might like to know that the apron was floral and _very_ pink."

Gilbert's hazel eyes held hers in challenge. "Just remember, I have all the stories on you as well, Miss Shirley."

Expecting a teasing quip in return, Gilbert jumped at the painful look that suddenly crossed Anne's pale face. He watched her swallow, and her eyes were distant. "Yes, I expect that you do."

He leapt to his feet and stopped her from reaching for the handle. "Anne, what is it?" he asked, his voice low. "What did I say?"

She shook her head and tried to smile. "Nothing, Gil. Everything is fine. I'll see you both at Penny's farewell party tomorrow evening."

Gilbert released the door, and a minute later stood watching Susan assist her into the buggy. Andrew came to stand beside him, and the two of them watched the women drive away.

"What was that all about?"

Gilbert's look was haunted. "I don't know." One lean hand pushed his hair back from his forehead, and he sighed. "Sometimes it's so easy to forget that we have any kind of history-"

"Well, that's idiotic," Andrew said warmly. "All I see in the two of you is that history- it's a connection most people would envy."

"Not all of it," Gilbert muttered.

Andrew sighed, deciding to be honest. "Gil, what on earth could be holding you back?"

Gilbert's jaw set. "Look, it's not that simple-"

Andrew interrupted him, seeing a couple standing at the office door. "It really is- but we'll have to continue this later, my next appointment is here."

Gilbert then stepped out of the solicitor's office with a wave, and when he was out on the street he drew in a deep breath of the still cool early spring air. As he arrived back in his rooms Gilbert shut the door behind him with a crease in his forehead. It was quite providential that Andrew had been interrupted in his lecture- because Gilbert didn't know what he was supposed to say anymore.

* * *

On a clear April morning, Penny Winston stood at the train station with her luggage, surrounded by her family. Lizzie was clinging to her side, asking never-ending questions about how she would travel, what she would do, when she would be coming to see her aunt and grandparents in Montreal. Andrew had assured her that they would go back to the city in just a few months time, and Penny had promised to write weekly to ease the distance.

Andrew stood next to the youngest Winston sibling, Jackson, who had come to escort his sister home to Montreal. Penny had been indignant at the suggestion that she needed an escort, however, Andrew only chuckled. He suspected that his parents merely wanted to keep the eighteen-year old busy. Penny would be glad of his company on the trip, he felt.

He turned to her with a smile. "Will you sleep on the ferry, do you think?"

Penny shuddered. "I do hope so- although I have a feeling that Jack will be out on the deck the whole time."

"Not everyone shares your aversion to the water, Kitten." Andrew wrapped her in a big hug and kissed the top of her head. All of the serious things had already been said, and he chose to keep things light now. "Give Mother and Father my love- tell them we're planning to visit in the summer."

Penny pulled back from him, her look pleading. "Promise that you'll come, Drew; I couldn't handle it if you stayed away as long as we have-"

Andrew stopped her quietly. "I'll come- Lizzy and I will come. You'll see us in just a few months." He grinned then. "And you may see someone else back home, too."

Penny scowled, to his amusement. "I still can't believe that Doctor Barnes visited Mother and Father."

Her brother chuckled. "It's customary to do so after meeting us- he lives there, and they liked him very much, so they said. And Father was impressed at how well he knew the city, too."

This made Penny laugh. "Yes, poor Gilbert- the hurt in his voice when he found that Doctor Blythe hadn't been to a single museum while he was there!" She groaned. "I only hope he doesn't tell them about the incident with the dog. Mother would be horrified- and I still can't believe he laughed at me."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Pen, I laughed. You have to admit that it was funny."

"Well, I just think that it isn't good manners to laugh at a strange girl- and don't you go saying that I am strange!" Penny said crossly.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Anyhow, you'll have to mind your manners- Mother invited him to your welcome home party as well."

"Of course I'll be polite! And when he wasn't smirking at everything, he was quite pleasant."

Andrew looked at her with an odd smile. "Yes, he was. Intelligent, good looking-"

"I suppose so-"

"And a successful doctor to boot. Watch out, Pen, that's a bad combination if he falls into Mother's claws." He pulled her in for a hug and sighed. "Thank you for coming out here, Penny- I can't tell you how grateful I am for you."

The train was only ten minutes from leaving when Gilbert, at last, jogged onto the platform. Penny surprised him with a warm hug and pulled back to look at him keenly. Gilbert smiled at her.

"We'll miss you, Penny."

Her wide blue hat tipped up, and she gave him the peaceful smile that he had always appreciated. "I'll miss you too, Gilbert." As she took her bag in hand, she studied him. "You know, you're not the man I met here eighteen months ago," she said quietly. "You always seemed so serious- and yet I don't really think that is who you are at all."

Gilbert gave her a slight smile, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "I suppose the fellow you first met still had some things he needed to sort out."

Penny chuckled. "Perhaps." She gave him a look then. "Gilbert, whatever has brought you back to life again- it's a gift. Second chances are a precious thing." He looked at her curiously then, and she smiled. "Would you mind doing me a favour?" she asked candidly.

"Short of exacting revenge on Mr. Flibbet, of course."

Penny chuckled. "I'm tempted- but no. I wondered if you would you mind keeping an eye on Anne." Her sharp blue eyes didn't miss the jump he gave, nor the way he strove to cover it. "She often seems lonely- and I worry that she doesn't have many people she can turn to."

Gilbert only nodded, his smile fixed. "Of course."

Penny smiled at him. "Thank you. She's such a dear- and she made the last few months so lovely for me. I'll miss her dearly."

The train whistle blew then, and out of the corner of Gilbert's eye, he saw another figure stride past them to enter the train. It was Owen Ford again- and he did not look well. Penny's eyes followed him too, and she turned to Gilbert with no pretense now.

"He's over there constantly, you know that, don't you?"

Gilbert manufactured a smile. "Penny, it's none of my business who Anne's friends are. She would never let anyone interfere with her friendships."

She grabbed his arm then, knowing she had little time. "He doesn't think of her as a friend. You saw him at my party the other night- he's intending on a courtship."

Gilbert wouldn't meet her eyes then. "Pen, I know Anne- she's not in love with him."

"That may be- but enough people marry without it." He flinched, and Penny released him. "Gilbert, whatever happened between the two of you is not a good enough reason to keep you apart."

"Penny, we have to go," her youngest brother called then, and Penny turned, her breath catching.

Andrew came close to nudge her forward. "Come on, Kitten. Lizzie and I will write you each week, and we're coming soon, we promise."

Penny bent down to hold her niece tightly and kissed the top of her head. She then stepped away with a deep breath and climbed aboard the train, closely followed by her youngest brother.

Only minutes later, Andrew watched his sister's train move away. Gilbert sighed and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It's a new season now," he said quietly.

Andrew sighed. "Yes. New season." He picked up Lizzie, and Gilbert chuckled at the effort he now had to go to to lift his daughter. "You're almost too big for this, little duck. Soon you'll have to carry me home."

"Alright, Papa. Can we get caramels before I go to school?"

Andrew rolled his eyes at Gilbert over her shoulder, holding her tightly. "I can do better than that. Do you want to have something at Miss Patty's tea room with Doctor Blythe and I?"

Lizzie squirmed down from her father's arms with a cry of delight. "Yes, Papa! She has cake!"

* * *

"Well, this is just _ridiculous_."

Anne's impatient voice echoed in her empty cottage, and she chuckled at the foolishness of talking to herself. She turned toward the kitchen to boil the kettle for tea, laying out a cup and saucer from Marilla's rosebud set- carefully packed and sent by Diana a few months ago to Anne's new home. When it was ready she sat down at the table, and looked around the small house wistfully. Susan had gone to visit her mother for the day, and was helping her spring clean her house- Rosewood cottage was already sparkling, and Anne couldn't begrudge Susan the time with her mother. Still, on a Friday evening, Anne couldn't help but long for some company. A visit from Katherine or Diana, or the long ago chaos and fun of Patty's place with the girls. As if intending to make herself feel worse, a nagging voice would remind her that Phil and Diana and Priss all had families of their own- and Stella and Katherine no doubt had the delights of the busy cities.

The sun was beginning to set now, and Anne moved around her house lighting lamps. The pie Susan had made for dinner was waiting on the stove, however Anne turned from it with a sigh. Perhaps when Susan was home they would enjoy it together. Instead, she moved into the sitting room where a small fire took the chill off the cool, grey day, and sat down in her chair, her feet propped up on the stool before her. With a lowered brow, she pulled the book sitting beside her onto her lap, and opened the cover. It was the journal that Gilbert had given her.

Quietly she leafed through the pages- halting attempts at prose, a line or two of verse. All incomplete, all imperfect. She stared into the fire moodily. Oh, she understood why he had given it to her- not even Diana would have suggested trying to write again. She traced with a finger over two words at the start of the most recent entry- _Words Unspoken._ How full the world must be of words that were never uttered.

As she had done before, she placed the book down with a sigh. It had been almost a week since she had seen Gilbert last, and she reminded herself sternly that it was only to be expected. He had far more pressing things to do than talk with the local school teacher, surely. Anne pulled her feet onto her chair, her hands clasped. At some point soon she should lay another log on the fire- although for the moment she watched the embers burn slowly, the red glow oddly soothing. Anne chuckled slightly. He had walked Anne home from the schoolhouse the previous Saturday, with no valid explanation for what he was doing in that part of town. Anne had been cleaning out her desk, and been startled by the doctor sauntering in the classroom- Gilbert had only shrugged, telling her that Susan supposed she must have become caught up- and that the least he could do was walk her home. He'd walked her home- and even had tea with them in fact.

Anne was awoken out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. She found her stick and grimaced at the distance from this room to the front of the house, and hastily brushed her hair out of her eyes. Shaking her head to wake herself up a little, she opened the door to greet whoever it was.

To her shock, Owen Ford stood on the doorstep. Surprised, Anne studied him in the twilight. He was paler than normal, and there was a look in his eye that reminded her of the tales he had told her of his grandfather- the eyes of one who had seen haunting visions.

"Mr Ford!" Anne said, summoning a smile. "You find me quite alone tonight- and I fear there is no spread to bring you good cheer."

His mouth twitched into a half hearted grin. "On the contrary, finding you alone is quite the stroke of luck." Anne gave him an odd look that recalled him to his usual manners. "Forgive me for my bluntness, Miss Shirley. I am, however, very glad to have a chance to see you alone."

Anne pulled herself together, her look hesitant. "Certainly, Mr Ford. Would you like to come into the sitting room? The fire is going in there, as today has been rather cool."

Anne closed the door behind him feeling vaguely uncomfortable. She followed him into the little room to watch him walk to the fireplace, his brow lowered. After a moment of indecision, Anne sat down.

"I hope that your meeting was successful, Mr. Ford."

Owen hesitated and gave her a smile. "My meeting went as I expected it to go. I think it will be the last time I am called away so abruptly."

Anne nodded, trying to keep her voice cheerful. "That must be a relief for you- I can't imagine what it would be like to travel at the drop of a hat."

Owen nodded and sat down on the sofa next to Anne, and his voice was wistful. "I believe it to be a time for new beginnings for all of us. Miss Shirley, I wonder, are you familiar at all with the mythical Phoenix?"

Anne blinked. "Of course."

"The mythical bird that rises from the ashes to be birthed anew. It's something I have been dwelling on lately." His dark eyes were intense, and slowly, so as to not startle her, Owen reached over to take her hand in his. "Miss Shirley- _Anne_ ," Owen said gently. "I'm leaving Four Winds."

A confused Anne tried to smile. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Ford. You will be missed."

In the silence of the room, as Anne watched in utter shock, Owen slipped down to his knees before her, his dark eyes holding her own fiercely in the flickering light. Her hand was pressed in his own, and his voice was low.

"Anne, I want you to come with me."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"Anne, I want you to come with me."

The silence in the dim room was deafening, and Anne sat in shock.

Owen's look was gentle as he watched her. "Anne, there was once a younger version of myself who came to this shore. He- he fell in love with a girl who did not believe herself free to love him back, and he was devastated when she chose another over him." Anne's face had paled, and she tried to keep herself steady. "Her name was Leslie."

Anne met his eyes then. "Leslie Moore?"

Owen froze. "How do you know her?"

Anne shook her head, pulling her hand back surreptitiously. "I have only heard of her, Mr. Ford," she whispered. "She was your Margaret, wasn't she?"

Owen's smile was faint. "She was. To me, she _was_ Margaret. When I first came here I thought myself alone- I only needed privacy to work, and a roof over my head. I supposed I would find the quaintness of country society just diverting enough for a man supposedly recovering from illness. And instead- instead I found a goddess. Intelligent, proud, and beautiful- in every way unattainable. She inspired me to write- she set my soul on fire."

Anne felt a pang in her heart as she saw her own pale face in the mirror. Had anyone ever thought of her so passionately? Suddenly, a comment he once made came to mind. Without heat, she met Owen's eyes. "You've been searching for her, Mr. Ford."

There was a brittleness to his manner then that made her flinch. "Yes. I should have stopped long ago." He drew her hand back into his, holding it lightly. "Sometimes we waste our lives wishing for something that we can't have. I no longer want to do that. I want to make a new life- a life with you. I want you to come with me."

Anne's shock was absolute. "You- you want me to come- come _where_ exactly?"

Owen sat down beside her, holding her hand in his. "Wherever you want to go, Anne."

"Mr Ford-"

" _Owen_ ," he said hoarsely.

Anne faltered at that. "Owen, I can't just leave-"

"Yes, you can," he said quietly. "Leave with me. If you wish to travel, we will travel. If you wish to make a life in some remote corner, then we can. There are no limits."

Anne pulled herself together sharply. "You can't be serious."

Owen gave a slight laugh. "I'm rarely anything else. Anne- _come_ with me."

Something of the schoolteacher was on her face then, and Owen sat back, seeing the sternness in her eyes. "Owen, you have just told me of the woman you love- you cannot expect me to believe that you have feelings for _me_."

"On the contrary." His voice was gentle then. "I wanted to be gone from here months ago. I stayed- I stayed for you, Anne. For your passion and intelligence- for the way you instinctively understand the human heart. She- Leslie- is gone. I think I have always known that. And despite that pain, you have grown in my heart, Anne. I _need_ you. I need you to reconnect me to life again."

Anne's mouth was dry, and she pulled back from him against her chair. "Owen, I can't save you from the pain of losing her-"

"Why not?" Owen asked her impatiently. "Isn't it possible to believe that the fates led me here to meet you? That you and I _both_ deserve a chance to find happiness again?"

Anne shook her head in disbelief. "Owen, can you really imagine finding happiness with someone you don't love?"

At this, Owen sighed. "Anne, we do feel something for each other. There is a chemistry between us- a spark that both you and I have. I care for you. Do you think it doesn't hurt me to see you alone, to see your struggle each day, dependent on others to live when I could save you from that pain?"

Anne's grey eyes sparkled dangerously. "Owen, I don't need saving- and you do not need to fix me."

Owen slid his hand into hers, pleadingly. "Anne, consider this. Together we would heal- we would rewrite our stories. We would be free to live any life we wanted. My career can take us anywhere- I can take you to every place you have ever dreamed of seeing. I can surround you with luxury, procure anything you desire- it would make me so happy to do that for you. You would have the best of medical care- and we will find doctors that will make you walk again. I can take care of you, Anne- I can show you the world you were born for. You belong in circles far away from here."

Anne raised one shaking hand to her forehead, and she closed pain-filled eyes. Of all of the proposals she had received, there was a shard of bitterness in this one that had nothing to do with the man before her. Gilbert's face was before her then, and that of the unseen Leslie- the Leslie who would continue to haunt him until he made peace with his past. Oh, she'd been in his place before, wanting to move on, wanting to end the heartache by beginning again- but it wouldn't work.

"Owen, I can't," Anne said gently, a tear falling down her cheek. "I know the hurt you have in your heart- but I can't be her replacement."

Owen stood up then, his voice heated. "You would not _be_ that! _She_ removed herself, she _chose_ to walk away from me. Do you believe I should wander the earth alone because of that choice?"

" _No_!" Anne said, her voice breaking. "Of course you deserve to start over- but not while she haunts you daily. Don't you feel her, like a specter in this room even now?"

Owen's body was stiff, and he paled in the flickering light. "Ghosts are not real, Anne."

She gave a bitter laugh then. "Oh, but they are. They are the hurt that does not leave until we make our peace with it. And until we do they haunt us."

Owen moved to the fireplace and turned to face Anne with an unnerving calm. "Perhaps she is here. But I will not keep any unholy alliance with the past- that is done with. But since you insist, I wonder what other ghost is present in this room." He watched her lips whiten, and came to stand before her chair. "I told you that I could see it in you. You say that you can't replace her- just who is it _I_ cannot replace?"

Anne met his eyes evenly, despite the shiver that ran down her spine. "Like Leslie, someone from long ago."

He placed his hands in his pockets, studying her deliberately. "And have you made peace with that?"

Against her will, a wry smile formed on Anne's face. "It rather depends on the day."

Owen knelt at her feet then, his face fierce. "Then why not do so now? Anne, will he come back for you?" She flinched at his words, and he pressed on. "Anne, does he know where you are? I am offering you the chance to leave it all behind. We can give each other a new start- we owe it to ourselves to begin to _live_ again. I will take you from here, I will carry you away from the things that have hurt you-"

"Owen, you can't run from it," Anne said softly. "It goes with you."

He carefully moved closer to her, his dark grey eyes burning. " _Together_ , we can. I know you have hurt as I have- let me be the one who heals you. Come with me."

Anne was shaking when his pale hands come up to frame her face, and panic filled her when he bent his handsome face toward her. She pulled away, and Owen lifted his head, his eyes suddenly wary. "Anne, what is it?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and her breath coming unevenly. "Owen, I _can't_ -"

"Come now, my darling, there's nothing to be frightened of-"

"No, _don't_." Anne's hands fluttered up in defence. "I can't do this again," she said pleadingly, her voice almost a whisper. His face whitened, and Anne drew in a sharp breath. "I'm so sorry."

The look of fury that crossed his face made her start. "And just what are you sorry for? For entertaining me all these months with no feeling for me whatsoever?"

Anne's chin rose, her green eyes shooting sparks. "Owen, I received you here as a _friend_. Nothing more. I am not Leslie Moore. I will not be her replacement. You and I both deserve better than that."

As Owen turned from her, he raised shaking hands up to cover his face. In another room- in another life, another woman had refused to leave with him- refused with a look on her beautiful face that was like death itself. The same helplessness covered him now, and he turned to see that Anne sat limply in her chair. He drew near her, his breath coming painfully. He dropped to his knees before her, trying to restrain his panic.

"Anne, I am begging you- please, _please_ leave with me. Forget what has gone before- forget _him_. Let me care for you, let me _love_ you-" he said brokenly.

"No, Owen," she said softly. "I won't. I gave my heart to someone long ago, and it is still his."

At her words, jealousy overwhelmed him and he grabbed her arms in desperation. "Anne, you are being foolish- I won't lose you to some romantic notion, I won't let you throw this chance away-"

And before Anne could move or make a sound, he pulled her into his arms sharply, pressing a painful kiss to her mouth. Once before he had done this to the girl he loved- once he had pressed Leslie to himself without restraint, had broken through her resolve and ignited the passion between them. In a heartbeat, he would realise that the Leslie who had so loved him may not have resisted- but an Anne whose heart belonged to another would not be the same. Owen recoiled at the look of cold fury on her face as she pulled herself away sharply.

"Unhand me," Anne said furiously, her green eyes afire. "I have given you my answer, and I expect you to abide by that." She pushed herself to her feet, anger radiating from her whole body.

Owen stood up from the floor, rubbing his wrist where he had fallen, his eyes smarting. "You can't be serious, Anne."

Anne's eyes glittered. "To quote you, Mr Ford, I am rarely anything else. Yours are not the actions of a gentleman here tonight- of someone willing to wait, and work and truly love someone. These are the actions of a man desperately running away. I _won't_ run. I won't take the coward's way out."

Owen's jaw trembled as he viewed the girl before him, and his last words were laced with bitterness. "You won't ever get away from here. It will bury you alive."

Anne stepped away, her hands going to her arms where he had held her. An odd smile came to her face, and her chin lifted. "I dare say it's not the hardest death, by any means."

She held herself stiffly until the front door slammed behind Owen, and as it echoed through the cottage Anne gave a stifled sob, dropping to her chair suddenly. She raised a shaking hand to her bruised lips, but it was Gilbert's face in her mind when she lay her head against the chair and cried.

Out on the street, Owen mounted his horse in fury. He was leaving- he was heading far from here, far from the pain of this cursed shore. At the edge of town he suddenly stopped, turning the horse around suddenly. As rage pulsed through him, he kicked the horse to a canter. It all came down to one man- one man curiously linked to the women who had walked away from him.

Gilbert Blythe would answer for what he had done.

* * *

At that very moment Gilbert's head lay against the cool counter of his kitchen bench, and he sighed, hardly having the energy to move. Slowly, he straightened himself up from where he had rested, willing the kettle to boil faster than it was. Four days without proper sleep, and the six hour nap he had taken that morning hardly went anywhere near the amount that he needed.

Three houses had been burned down at Harbour Head on Sunday night- since that night he had made the long drive each day, treating multiple burns, fractures and smoke inhalation cases. A young boy had been trampled by terrified animals, and a woman had gone into premature labor in the wake of the fire. This on top of his regular calls meant that there had been no time to socialise- or more importantly, to make a call that had been heavily on his mind of late. Gilbert scowled as he filled up his cup. He'd barely had a chance to fill in his paperwork- and he'd not seen Anne in days.

He took his cup to the kitchen table, and slumped down in his chair. He'd thought about going around there tonight- hardly a sensible idea, though, when he couldn't keep his eyes open, let alone have a rational discussion. He had just pulled his notebook toward him to jot down some notes, when someone thumped against the front door loudly.

When Gilbert opened it, he looked in confusion at the sight of an enraged Owen Ford.

" _What did you say to her?"_

Eying the way the man's fists were clenched, Gilbert walked out onto the porch, closing his door behind him. "What did I say to _whom_ , Ford?"

" _Anne_! What did you say to _Anne_?"

Gilbert's exasperation rose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Owen stepped in close, his voice low. " _Leslie_. I know it was you. What did you say to Anne about her?"

Gilbert stood still, his voice deceptively quiet. "For the last time, Ford, _I don't betray professional confidence_. Why assume it was me?"

" _You_ turned her from me!" Owen spat. "She knew about Leslie. She must have heard it from you-"

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "And the fact that you have done nothing to suppress the gossip about Leslie by asking everyone who knew her for information? Did you never think that people are talking more _because_ you came here? You _boarded_ with her-"

"You were at the house constantly-"

"As a _professional!_ And don't think I don't know what you've been saying."

Owen glared at him. "And what would that be?"

The doctor's voice was calm, but fury covered his face. "That you covered up your visits to her house by questioning _mine_ in front of others. It caused no end of trouble for Leslie, Ford. Cornelia Elliot suspected you then." Gilbert's jaw clenched. "Did you never think that she alone might have known where Leslie was? She has cared for Leslie since she was a child. And your behaviour made sure she would never tell you."

"She has nothing to do with this," Owen said savagely. "And _you_ \- are you so bitter that you would poison another woman against me? _Why_? Why would you even care about Anne?"

Gilbert advanced on Owen menacingly. "You can't claim to know anything about me, Ford. As for Anne, I said _nothing_. I should have. I should have told her just what you were capable of."

Owen gave Gilbert a bitter smirk. "Oh, I think she knows _exactly_ what I'm capable of now."

White rage filled Gilbert, and he fisted his hands into Owen's jacket, slamming him without warning against the wall of the house. "What did you do to her?" he bellowed, his face mere inches from Owen's sickly pale one.

Owen's breath came in a grunt, and his look was venomous. "Well, why don't you just ask her? You are supposedly _friends_ , aren't you?"

Without warning, Owen's head hit the wall as Gilbert's fist struck him squarely. He slid down the wall, groaning as his nose spouted blood. Gilbert stood over him in disgust. " _Never_ go near Anne again. And Ford? It _wasn't_ my fault that Leslie left. It wasn't my fault that she wouldn't leave him. You need to stop blaming everyone else and take some responsibility. _She_ made those decisions- and if you'd not flown off in a rage you would have had time to talk with her. And you needn't look at me either to see why Anne didn't chose you- she's a better judge of what she wants than anyone." Gilbert stepped over his legs to walk through his front door without looking back. "Hang your head back, Ford. The blood will clot better."

Before Gilbert could shut the door on him, Owen staggered to his feet. "Who knew you had it in you, Blythe," he muttered sarcastically. "You didn't leave savagery behind you in that frontier town?"

Gilbert's jaw clenched. "We form pretty unshakable bonds in that town. I advise you not to mess with us." He slammed the door then, and once inside he clenched his fingers painfully, waiting to hear Owen's horse move away. He took his jacket from the peg on the wall. Tiredness was far from him as he strode to the barn to saddle Hippocrates, apologizing with a swift pat to the horse who wanted home as much as his master. Sleep or not, he had to see Anne.

* * *

When Gilbert arrived at the cottage, Anne herself was there to open the door, her eyes clear. She seemed surprised to see him, but welcomed him inside.

"I hope you don't mind, Anne, but I took Hippocrates around to the barn to give him some hay and rest while I'm here. He's had a long day of it."

Anne smiled. "Our horse will be happy for the company, I believe- they seem to get along quite well."

Gilbert looked around him warily. "Is Susan in?"

"She's gone to bed with a headache. It's just me, tonight. Come and I'll prepare some tea for us."

Anne laid a tray with some help from a rather quiet Gilbert. The pie was still warm from the oven, and Gilbert carried the tray through to the sitting room. He watched her carefully, thinking that everything appeared to be normal. If he hadn't seen Owen that night, he supposed he wouldn't have known any different. Still, from long experience, he knew that appearances didn't mean much. Eschewing his normal chair, he sat beside her on the long sofa so that both of them were facing the fire, and Anne sighed in relief.

"Tired?"

Anne closed her eyes. "Yes. It's been a long day. Friday often is."

He studied the way that she maneuvered her leg onto the stool. "Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?"

Anne's face lit with good humour. "You are being a worrywart today, Gil. I'm fine."

Gilbert folded his arms, watching her. "I just had a visitor. Owen Ford."

This brought her eyes to his, and Anne scowled, however he only shrugged. "I'm fine," she said firmly, brooking no disagreement.

"Did he hurt you?"

Anne did not answer immediately, and her voice was suspiciously light. "I'm surprised that the two of you talked. I didn't think you got on all that well together."

"We don't. And less after tonight, I feel," Gilbert said grimly.

Anne gave him a startled look. "Oh?"

Gilbert shifted in his chair uneasily. "It's a long story. But he said enough to concern me about his behaviour while he was here."

Anne swallowed. "I can't imagine that he would tell you anything-"

"Let's just say I've become very good at reading between the lines. Can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"You don't need this, Gil. I can see that you are tired."

Gilbert tipped his head back to watch her, his stomach contracting in worry. "Anne, I need to know if you're alright."

She didn't look up, but unexpectedly her forehead creased, tears forming at his gentle concern. "No. Not really."

Anne pulled her feet up on the sofa, her hands clasped around her knees, bringing a faint smile to Gilbert's face. She looked so young like this- like they had been as children. Her voice was quiet in the dim room.

"Very well, then. Owen came around before tea time." Her eyes were on the low fire in the grate, and she missed the way that Gilbert tensed. "He- he's been a little strange, lately. He mentioned things a few times now about second chances and so forth- and I came to realise that he was talking about us."

"You and Owen?"

"Yes," Anne said simply. "But it isn't so simple. There was someone else, from long ago. Someone he loved."

Gilbert's eyes were stony. "Leslie."

Anne's glance shot up, a slight edge in her voice. "So you know her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her look was impatient. "Do you have any idea how often I have heard the townsfolk speak of Leslie Moore, Gilbert? To hear them talk, she seems to have been more spirit than woman, some siren who lures men out into the deep waters. The woman with the hair of gold who had every man under her spell, whose husband mysteriously vanished and reappeared, the one whom Owen was searching for- " she broke off then with a slightly bitter sigh. "And with whom even the good Doctor Blythe was rumored to be infatuated."

He rolled his eyes, and turned to face her. "Anne, who are you going to listen to? If you want to know something, just ask me."

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she drew in a deep breath. "So you knew Leslie?"

He seemed to be weighing something up as he watched her, and his shoulders finally squared. "Yes. Because I was her doctor." Anne sat back in surprise, and he continued, his voice brittle. "You know that I would not normally violate doctor-patient confidentiality. But with Owen here- and with you- I haven't known whether it was up to me to say something- or if you would even want to know."

Anne's piercing gaze was on him. "You didn't know whether to tell me what you knew."

"No."

Anne's hands were clasped in her lap now, her grey eyes gentle. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You should never have been put in that position."

At this he gave a dry laugh. "Anne, that's the price of my profession. I know a thousand things that I wish I didn't- I've had to work in situations that I wish I was a million miles from- or that I could go in there and make sure no one could ever be hurt again. I'd never let women go back to houses where they are in danger- where little children are neglected." He looked at Anne's face, and saw the tears swimming there, and cursed himself for forgetting her past and speaking so thoughtlessly.

"You would help them all if you could. I know that," she said quietly, and he jumped as her hand unexpectedly grasped his.

He let out a breath, his head falling against the sofa back. "There's no one you can talk to about it, either. Apart from another doctor- who most likely has worse stories that you do." Absently, his thumb stroked her fingers. "But with you- I didn't know what to do about Owen. Maybe he was just a friend- maybe you wouldn't want to know about the past."

Anne sighed. "We're not children anymore, Gil. And he told me the story himself."

She was startled to see the reserved look on his face then. "Not the whole story."

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "Anyone can see he has led a fairly worldly life, Gilbert. He didn't hide that. And it sounds as if it all happened so long ago."

"Try last _year_."

She pulled her hand from his then, in shock. "What do you mean?"

"He met her two years ago," Gilbert said deliberately. "She left here last summer. She was trapped in an unhappy marriage until the man she thought was her husband regained his memory and mental faculties after an operation that _I_ advised. And I'll bet that Owen never told you the position he put her in while all that was happening."

Anne's cheeks were pale. "No. Is Leslie alright?"

Gilbert gave her a gentle look. "I think so. When George Moore left her care, she left Four Winds. I don't know where she is." Anne was silent, and he continued, deliberately. "And no, I was not infatuated with her. She was a married woman, and my patient. It would be completely unethical. But you know what small towns are like for gossip."

Anne let out a shaky breath. "Do you know, I almost miss the conversations we used to have in the old days- nothing so grown up or weighted as this."

To this he chuckled. "Well, you said it. We're not children anymore." He was silent for a moment, before asking- "So what happened tonight then?"

As his hazel eyes held hers, she flushed, remembering that he had answered a question she had not dared ask. Surely he deserved equal candor from her.

"He came-"

"You said that-"

"And he asked me to go away with him."

"For a trip, you mean."

"No. Permanently. He's leaving." Gilbert looked at Anne's pale face in the firelight, her eyes fixed on the darkness outside. Her red hair was pulled back smoothly now, and he found himself studying the still perfect silhouette her profile gave. "He wanted me to go with him. To give up teaching, and apparently to live in the lap of luxury all my life."

Gilbert swallowed then. "To marry him."

"I suppose so, yes."

"You suppose so?"

Anne gave a slightly bitter laugh. "Well, he never mentioned that- although I had assumed that was what he meant. He painted wonderful pictures of the life we would lead, the stories he would write-"

"And what of your stories?" Gilbert said, incensed.

"You know that I don't write anymore, Gilbert," Anne said with a sigh. "Owen does. He wants to begin all over again, to find a new life. He wants to leave Four Winds behind for good."

He was silent for a moment, as he contemplated all that Ford had offered her. "I see. You- you weren't tempted by that?" Gilbert asked lightly. "Security, stability-"

At this she rolled her eyes. "Gilbert, that's why I teach. I need to earn that for myself." Anne was silent for a moment, somehow needing to be honest. "I won't pretend that the idea of settling wasn't tempting. Doing life alone hasn't been easy. And he paints a lovely picture. However, there's no love in it."

"You don't think he loved you?" Gilbert asked slowly, and she shook her red head.

"No. He's still in love with _her_. I won't be a substitute, and I won't settle for less than love," Her hands gestured helplessly then. "Owen is impetuous and romantic- but I learned a long time ago that neither of those things have much do with real love." Anne said softly, making the cup of tea halfway to Gilbert's mouth stop. He put down the cup in slightly shaking hands, one of which he flexed rather painfully. Anne didn't notice this. "He then tried to appeal to my situation in life, to make me reconsider, I suppose. When I said no, he didn't listen- and he-" Anne stopped cold, not knowing how to continue.

Gilbert folded his arms, knowing that he was about to ask questions he had no business to ask. And somehow, he knew she would answer them anyway. "What did he do?"

"He told me that I was foolish, and said he wouldn't let me give up this opportunity to get away from here- and he grabbed my arms."

Gilbert's lips tightened. "And then?"

Anne sighed, impatient to get the story over. "Gil, you can probably guess the rest. Without any permission being given, he kissed me. I was angry at his forwardness and pushed him away, we quarreled and then he left."

He ran his hand through the brown curls on his head. "Anne, did he hurt you? You didn't fall?"

She gave him a cross look. "You won't let this go, will you? Look, I might slightly bruise on my arms, and he certainly wasn't gentle- but I promise you that I am alright." She raised a hand to a graze on her lip and scowled. "I doubt that he would dare try it again."

Gilbert drew in a shaking breath, grateful that it had been no worse. Still, the fury within him rose, and he set his mouth grimly. He'd hit him again if he had the chance. He turned to Anne, regret covering his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it happened."

Anne turned to look at his dear face with a pang. "It's alright. I'm alright, Gil." Anne let silence fill the room, and his serious hazel eyes turned to her. "It was worse with Leslie, wasn't it?"

Gilbert looked into the grey eyes that had kept more beautiful, and more terrible secrets than he had ever known, and nodded. "They had an affair," he said quietly. "It started months before I came to the Glen. She did love him. She found out that she was pregnant after he had left. The town would have known that the child couldn't have belonged to her mentally impaired husband- and she was terrified of what would happen."

Anne's breath caught, and her fingers closed around his sleeve. "Gil, that poor girl-"

He shrugged, defeated. "She lost the baby only weeks later. Owen never knew- she refused to tell him. When it was over she left the Glen. She told me that she was going to family somewhere on the mainland. But you can see why I wanted to speak up when he started coming around here. You didn't know him." Gilbert gave a half hearted grin. "I was worried about you."

She tentatively reached out her hand to touch his. "Gilbert Blythe, you are a good friend," she said softly, and was surprised when he shook his head, swallowing.

"A good friend wouldn't have cut you out of his life because he misread your feelings eight and a half years ago."

He wasn't looking at her then, and so he didn't see the sharp pain that crossed her pale face at his words. He gripped her hand in his, wondering if it was her fingers shaking or his own.

"A good friend wouldn't have done any of the things that I did to you," Anne said in a tortured whisper that broke his heart. "I'm so sorry, Gil."

There was silence in the room for a few minutes, and then Gilbert squeezed her hand, bringing her eyes to his. "I missed you."

Anne's eyes were on their hands, and she blinked back tears. "I missed you too." She pulled out the handkerchief from her pocket then, busying herself with wiping her eyes to hide the trembling in her fingers.

He let out a deep sigh then, and gave Anne a piercing look. He would talk to her soon- but he wouldn't do it to her tonight.

"Well, I'm glad you're alright. Should you perhaps keep a slate on you in the future, in case other gentlemen prove contrary?"

Anne chuckled. "I had hoped this community wouldn't learn of my temper anytime soon- I have a reputation to keep, you know."

Gilbert's tone was dry. "Don't we all." He bent down to pick up the pie Anne had served, and let out a gusty breath. "Thanks for this. I must have missed lunch today."

Anne gave him an indulgent look. "And is Susan the real reason you love to visit us? Has she won your heart with her cooking?"

He gave her his old cheeky smile. "I won't lie to you, I never eat half this well at home."

Anne shifted against the lounge, stretching her feet out on the footstool. She looked around her home thoughtfully. "It's a lovely place to live. I'll admit I was worried about moving here at first. I didn't know if Susan would be able to help me the way that I needed, if she would be a kindred spirit. She's been simply wonderful. And something tells me that this is my life now- a pleasant home, and a life spent doing good work."

Gilbert watched her, regretting the calm acceptance in her voice. She'd hoped for so much more- for adventure, for romance. He cleared his throat, and manufactured a grin.

"Well, the bright side is that Roy certainly won't be back."

Anne's eyes shot up to meet his, and she swallowed. "You mean Owen."

Gilbert's look was startled, and he frowned at Anne. "What did I say?"

She gave a faint smile. "Roy. You said Roy."

This made his eyebrows fly up in shock, and he crossed his arms with an attempt at nonchalance. "Oh. Trick of the memory, I guess."

Anne chuckled, hoping to break the tension that had formed so quickly. "Too much reminiscing, I suppose. You're right, we shouldn't get caught in the past. What should we talk about instead?"

Gilbert grinned, taking her question as a lifeline. "I don't suppose you've read the latest Sherlock Holmes, have you? The Memoirs? I finished it between patients."

This made her laugh, and she turned to face him on the couch. "I found it very interesting. Do you suppose he really is dead?"

The two of them talked until the fire grew low, when Gilbert reluctantly stood up to leave.

"I'd better get some sleep, I have three babies due this week. They typically don't like to wait until morning."

Anne smiled. "No, they don't. The first birth I ever saw was just after midnight on Christmas Eve." Gilbert looked at Anne in surprise. "He was a trifle impatient to enter the world, the doctor only just made it that time."

Gilbert watched her, an odd feeling welling up inside. "How old were you?"

She pushed a red curl behind one ear, her face untroubled. "Oh, around eight or nine, I think."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at her with almost an eager look. "And what did you think?"

Anne laughed then, a silvery sound he hadn't heard from her in a long time. "Aside from the mess- it was- miraculous." Her grey eyes met his then, and he smiled.

"That's what I think too."

Anne stepped away to put another log on the fireplace, shooing Gilbert away when he tried to do it for her.

"Gil, it's alright, I can do this. You know that I ask for help when I need it."

"Oh _really_ -"

" _Now_ , I meant _now_ -"

He laughed and took the hat she handed him, when Anne's eyes suddenly fell on the discolored knuckles on his right hand. Her eyes flew back to his, as he quickly pushed them into his pocket. "Is that new?" she asked, her voice deceptively quiet.

He gave her an impudent look. "My suit? Yes. Thank you for noticing."

She levelled him with a glance, and before he could back away she pulled his hand from his pocket, touching it gently. He remained still, his heart pounding oddly. When she released him, he kept his eyes averted, idly studied her stockinged feet. He'd had no intention of her finding out, and tucked the bruised hand away carefully.

"Gil, _why_?" she whispered. "Why would you do that?"

He put his black felt hat on his head, and opened the door behind them. "Because it had to be done," he said, and gave her a quick smile, "You should get some sleep. 'Night, Anne."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

On a warm Sunday afternoon, a very dubious Susan dropped Anne at the corner of the shore road, promising to be back for her in an hour or so. Anne took her stick under one arm and stood looking over the ocean with eager eyes. The sea was a splendour of grey and blue that day, and out towards the horizon, she could see a fishing boat moving steadily towards the harbour. With a lighter step than she had had in months, Anne wrapped her shawl around herself as she moved down the slope. How long had it been since she had done this?

Anne had intended to head for the firmer sand, however, it was only another step and she found herself slipping on the dry slope, and tumbling down the rest of the way with a cry of shock. When she had caught her breath she sat up and untangled her skirts, thankfully unhurt- and thankful that no one was there to see Miss Shirley sprawling so inelegantly at the foot of the hill. However, before she could move, an unexpected but most familiar voice called to her from down near the water.

"Well, that landing was spectacular, I must say."

Anne pushed the fall of red hair from her face and gave Gilbert a droll look. "Oh, be quiet. And why is it always you who finds me?" she said breathlessly.

He shook his head, jogging to where she sat. "Because you're lucky." She chuckled at the sight of him, his curls windblown and in the old football uniform that he used to wear at Redmond.

"You kept that outfit, Gil?"

Gilbert looked indignant as he dropped to his knees before her. "I spent seven years on the football team, Anne; of course I kept it. Come on, let's see the foot."

Anne rolled her eyes. "I didn't hurt myself this time at all- I just slipped."

At his stern look, she grumblingly put her foot out, and he swiftly checked her ankle for further injuries.

"Well, that seems fine, so I don't know what you're fussing about." He moved out of the way to avoid her shove with a laugh. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Anne settled her dress around her comfortably and sighed in contentment. "Susan is at her sister's house, and I asked if she could bring me here while she visited. She thought I was crazy, of course, but the view is marvellous."

Gilbert turned to sit beside her, looking out at the deep blue of the water. "It's why I run here, especially if it's been a rough day."

Anne looked at him curiously. "Oh. Was it a rough one?"

He shrugged. "I've had worse." At the gentle nudge from her elbow, he grinned wryly. "There are days when medicine would be simpler without the patients, that's all."

Anne laughed. "You used to say that about teaching, too." She turned to study him with a slight smile. "Seeing you like this really brings back Redmond days, Gil."

To Gilbert's surprise, insecure feelings that he had become adept at suppressing suddenly flooded him. "Anne, you only saw me like this for two years."

She hesitated, seeing the off note she had struck so swiftly. "I did see you in the last two. I even came to your games now and then."

"I didn't think that would be Gardner's scene."

Anne chuckled. "It wasn't. ' _Uncouth and unkempt_ ', I believe he called it."

Gilbert made a mock bow. "At your service, Miss Shirley."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Roy didn't go. If I went to a game, I went alone."

He sat in silence for a moment. "Why did you?"

Anne busied herself by dusting the sand off her hands. "Because I missed you, I suppose."

Gilbert found his cheeks heating, as an unidentified emotion rose inside. He'd made the decision that it wasn't going to be like this- they would talk calmly, he wouldn't accuse, wouldn't lose his temper. Now, something inside him broke and he turned furious eyes towards her.

"You say you missed me back then."

Anne looked at him warily. "I did."

"Then _why_ didn't you respond when I reached out to you?"

An almost speechless Anne floundered. "When? How?"

Honestly wanting an answer, Gilbert tried to calm down. "I came to Patty's Place sometimes."

Anne shook her head, bewildered. "I thought you were there to see the others, you hardly _spoke_ to me-"

"I was waiting for you to speak to _me_! For you to show that somehow you still had a place for me in your life!"

Anne looked defeated. "Gilbert, I missed you constantly. That never stopped hurting me."

Gilbert turned to her in anger then, asking the question he had tried to answer for six and a half years. "Then as petty as this sounds, why didn't you dance with me on the biggest and most important night of our lives? The one we planned together, the one we worked towards for four years? Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Anne's look was fearful. "Gilbert, why are we talking about this now? You said that you wanted to start again- that you didn't want to go over old territory."

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. "We didn't need to back then," he said, with some difficulty. "But it _matters_ now, Anne. You're in my life again, and I'm thankful- but if there's going to be real trust here, then there are things that I would like answers for." His voice was brittle, but he turned to her with watchful eyes. "Is that alright?"

Anne's heart was pounding, but she lifted her eyes to his bravely. "Alright." She swallowed, not knowing how much to say. "I- I said no to your dance because I was angry."

Gilbert turned to her, his glance sharp. "Right. So you carried my flowers that morning."

"I did."

"You kept catching my eye at the ceremony."

"I- I know."

Gilbert's hands were clenched, and he asked the next question through gritted teeth. "Then in the name of all academia, what did I do to you between then and the dance that night?"

Anne clenched her hands, her eyes stormy. "I refused the dance because I heard that you would be proposing to Christine Stuart that night."

To Gilbert, this was a shock he was not prepared for. He shook his head, trying to process this. "What? Who- who told you that?"

"Phil," Anne said shortly.

Gilbert's anger bubbled up. "Phil told you? _Phillipa Gordon_?"

"Yes," Anne said tersely. "On the way to the dance, Phil told me that you were to propose that evening. I had no reason to not believe it was true. And I was hurt and embarrassed and angry."

He turned to look at her squarely. "Anne, even if it had been true, and _surely_ you know by now that it was just a rumour, why would that matter to you?"

Anne exploded at this. "Because you sent me flowers, Gilbert. Because that day you unmistakably reached out to me, and because I wanted to find you there- only to learn that you were about to pledge yourself to a woman who _hated_ me-"

"For Pete's sake, who said that?" he asked, bewildered.

Anne gave him an impatient look. "Her actions, Gil- and her friends. Claire Hallett was constantly in my ear about Christine's dislike for me."

Gilbert frowned, trying to understand. "Let me get this straight. Phil told you I was proposing. To _her_."

"Yes. And I felt like the biggest fool in the world-"

He groaned. "Anne, I don't get this; back then, what did it matter to you if I did?"

 _"Because I went to that dance wearing the enamel heart!_ " Anne said furiously. There was a long, shocked pause as she realised what she just said out loud, and flung her hands up in defeat. "Gilbert, I went there knowing that you were thinking of me and wanting to show you that I was thinking of you too- that it _mattered_ that you were still in my life and on that day of all days. And to hear that on that same night you would promise yourself to her, I- I couldn't handle that. I couldn't be calm and disinterested when what I was wearing certainly told me otherwise."

Gilbert's eyes were dull. "But I would have remembered- I never saw it on you-"

Anne's eyes were like flint as she pulled a small chain from her dress. She took it off with shaking fingers and handed it to him. A locket Matthew had once given her hung on it, but hanging behind the pendant was a pink, enamel heart that Gilbert would have sworn she had never worn. "I broke your chain that night," she said stiffly. "On the way to the dance Phil spoke, and I realised I couldn't go there wearing it. Not if she was with you. I was foolish enough to tear it off, but I could never let go of the pendant. So I kept it here."

Gilbert stared at the chain, utterly speechless. The heart wasn't the bright pink it had once been- it had rubbed against the locket, and time had worn the enamel thin. The warmth of the pendant made him swallow, and he had to force himself to not look at the collar it had nestled under. So she had worn it- and by the look of it, had done so for years.

Anne's voice was distant. "I know how it must have seemed to you back then. But Gilbert, you _mattered_. More than Roy, more than anyone else there that night. I knew that then. And maybe I had no right to be upset about Christine, but I was. I was selfish and angry and hurting. And so I said no to the dance. Roy proposed to me the next day, and I realised that I couldn't accept him. He didn't belong in my life. When I would put you before him- a friend's flowers, a friend's gift- and when I knew that I would _always_ have chosen to put you before him, I couldn't accept him, regardless of what state we were in at the time."

Gilbert put his head in his hands, breathing heavily. "I- I can't believe this. I thought that you hated me. Or that Roy had seen the flowers and told you to stay away from me."

Anne's face was taut. "No."

Gilbert's head was swimming, and he sat looking out to sea for long minutes. How did this keep happening? Over and over the two of them had revisited the past, only to find that they had both been completely mistaken about the other one- what else was there? He looked down at the necklace in his hands and felt his own heart break as he gave it back to her. "I'm glad that you kept it," he said slowly. He watched Anne fasten it to herself carefully.

When long minutes had gone by, Gilbert sighed, his eyes clouded. "Anne, the thing I really want to know is about the summer after. You know I had typhoid- and I assume that you know I nearly died."

Anne's face paled. "I did, Gil."

His face was tense, and she saw with shame the way he had withdrawn from her, folding his arms on top of his knees. "I don't remember anything of it- just waking up when it was over. I had letters from people who had heard, I even had a letter from the head of the Redmond board wishing me well. Fred and Di sent a message, and I got a letter from Jane. And I kept waiting to hear from you- I knew that you would know- and when the doctor finally let me leave the house, I went to see you." He watched the shock cross her face, but didn't relent. "I came to Green Gables, and _you weren't there_. Marilla told me that you had gone, and wouldn't be back that summer. You _knew_ I was sick, and you left. With no word, no note. You _left_. What was I meant to assume? If I'd forgotten that you refused to dance with me, I couldn't ignore the fact that you didn't care enough to write. That was the moment I gave up on a friendship with you- that was when I decided I needed to move on and forget you. It killed me to do it- but I couldn't waste any more time wishing for something that I couldn't have."

In the silence that followed, he watched her, hoping against hope that something- anything she could say would explain it.

The pain on Anne's face shook him to the core. Her tears seemed to scald, and almost he told her to forget his question- and if it wasn't for the fact that something deep inside told him that he needed- that _they_ needed to have this answered, his heart might have failed.

Anne's voice faltered, and he had to bend close to hear her on the windy shore. "Gilbert, I can't begin to tell you how much I regret leaving. It was my biggest mistake."

He bent to look in her eyes. "Why did you go?"

"Because I couldn't stay," she whispered brokenly, her eyes pleading. "I can't explain, Gilbert- it was like something out of a nightmare, and then I heard your voice- and it destroyed me." She froze then, knowing now that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Gil, I was at Echo lodge when you became ill- and I returned home to find out that you were dying. It hurt me like nothing else ever has." Gilbert was unmoving, and he watched her intently.

Anne hesitated, and she shivered at the memory of his hoarse voice echoing through his parent's house. Almost she told him then- almost she spoke the words that had hurt her for years- and but her fear wouldn't allow her to speak. She could lose what little of him she had now. Sonia's words had not eased the pain of that day for her- even in delirium, her presence had managed to hurt him. Anne licked dry lips and stared out at the gulls hovering over the sandbar, until she realised that a sober Gilbert was watching her. The days that followed that dark night flooded her mind, and slowly she began to speak, her voice low.

"At first, I didn't dare leave the house in case word came. Marilla- insisted- after a few days that I couldn't help you by moping- and she encouraged me to attend Jane's wedding."

Gilbert found his voice then. "I forgot that happened."

Anne's smile was twisted with hurt. "I wish that I could."

"Why? What happened there?" he asked.

" _Josie_."

Gilbert's head flew up, his eyes suddenly cold. "Why? What did she tell you?"

Anne turned from him to stare sightlessly at the shore. "Josie gave me the news that you would recover- and she told me that all the town knew but me. She said that it was because you didn't want to see me, that your mother had said so. Oh, Gilbert, the maliciousness in her tone," she said, her voice shaking. "I never understood before just how much she hated me. She then told me she had heard from Charlie that Christine was coming the following week to be with her _fiancé_. We were standing side by side while Jane was getting married, and she _smiled_ at me while she said it. I believed her, Gilbert. I only realised the truth when I saw you in Four Winds that Christine wasn't with you- I only saw then that Josie had lied."

Gilbert's mouth was open, his eyes horror-struck. "How could she- how could she think that would work? I would have contradicted it-"

Anne's voice held a bitterness that he had seldom heard from her. "But it _did_ work, Gilbert. She told me- and I couldn't face it- I couldn't face the two of you being together when you rightly despised me. I went home only to pack my bags." She wiped her eyes wearily. "I have never been so terrified in all of my life as I was for you. I couldn't go to you again- I had hurt you too much. I know that I shouldn't have believed Josie- and I should have stayed, no matter what she said- but I believed her. I thought that I had no right to go to you. I'd been so cruel, and you were _right_ to not want me there. As far as I knew, you were an engaged man."

"But I _wasn't_!"

"And I didn't know that!"

Gilbert surprised her by flopping back on the sand with a groan. "It always seems to come back to what we didn't know." He looked up at her sharply, then. "What do you mean I was _right_ to not want you there?" He watched her shiver, her eyes frightened, and sat up quickly, his concern for her overriding the argument. "Anne, what is it?"

Anne's eyes were on the sand now, and she had pulled away from him. "I suppose- I mean, that I assumed you didn't want me there because of- of her."

Gilbert let out an explosive sigh. "Well, Anne, you were wrong." He scowled at the horizon, thinking through her story. "Did Marilla never tell you that I went to see you?"

Anne wiped a tear from her eyes. She shook her head dully. "No. She would have assumed it would only hurt more. I didn't tell her why I was leaving- but she knew that it was about you. It was a year later when she finally asked me what had happened."

After a time, Anne spoke, her heart breaking at his silence. "Gilbert, is there any way you can forgive me?" she whispered. "I can't change what I did at Convocation, or- after. But I was so desperately sorry for saying no to that dance. I was sorry that I didn't stay- I was sorry for giving you any reason to think that I didn't care. I did. I was terrified- I thought you were going to die, and that I would never get to tell you how sorry I was."

Gilbert's arms were clasped around his knees, and he breathed deeply of the fresh ocean air. There was so much in his head that he needed to sort through- information that his heart and head were warring over, however now was not the time. For a moment he said nothing, trying to keep his reaction light, and finally nudged her shoulder with his.

"We're too old to hold grudges, right?"

He watched her give a faint smile as she wiped her eyes. "You aren't old, Gil."

Gilbert snorted. "I'm three years older than you, remember. I'm an exhausted doctor who has to have his tea just right, and who can go to sleep just about any place, any time."

This made her chuckle. "That's lifestyle, not age, Gil. I've always thought that men seem to improve as they age."

"Ah. You think I've improved, don't you." His tone was smug, and he was pleased to see her laugh, the weightier subjects for now put aside.

"You're as handsome as you ever were, Gil. Just look at the way the unattached ladies watch you on a Sunday morning." He turned to her with a comical look, to see her looking out to sea with a grin on her face. "Trust me, they do. I always sit up the back so that I don't make so much noise coming up the aisle."

Gilbert shrugged. "We always used to sit there in the first two years at Redmond. Although that was because we didn't want anyone to see how much we talked through the service."

There was silence until he stretched out his legs, looking at the sun starting to sink in the sky. In the afternoon light, he studied her face.

"You barely seem older than we were back then."

His heart gave a twinge when he heard her disbelieving laugh. "I certainly don't feel young. I think last year aged me."

Gilbert's voice was gentle, then. "Come on Anne, that's grief, not age."

Anne tipped her head to look at him, her voice flat. "Gilbert, when you carry a walking stick and need assistance to do everything- _and_ when you dress like this- it makes you feel older."

"Well, one of those things you can change." At her confused look, he sighed. "Anne, I've watched you go through mourning twice now. I know how much you loved Matthew and Marilla- but they wouldn't want you forever in this." He tugged on the black skirts that fell on the sand beside him and gave her a little smile. "I hate to see you in black. I think you'd feel better if you let yourself wear normal clothes again, irrespective of how long it's been. You always wore such pretty clothing." He ignored the slight blush on her cheeks and spoke gently. "Anne, did you ever think that the black has been a way for you to hide for the last eleven months?"

He saw the shock in her eyes and turned to face her squarely. "You can ignore me if you want to. But I wonder if you're hoping to not be noticed- if somehow there's a part of you that you aren't letting people see anymore."

Anne was dumbfounded by his words. "And you think by wearing colours I'll change that?" He only looked at her as she processed this, and Anne gave a sigh of frustration. It was her turn to fall onto the sandy slope, her arm shielding her eyes from the sun. She didn't see the grin that Gilbert gave at that moment- in the old days she might have stormed off the beach. There was no doubt about it- her lack of mobility meant more got talked out these days. She was silent for long minutes, and when she opened her eyes he was leaning back on his hands looking at her, his expression amused.

"You know, every now and then, I'm glad I hit you with a slate," she grumbled.

He grinned. "Every now and then I'm glad you did it too."

Anne sat up at the sound of a call from over the dunes, both of them suddenly brought back to reality.

"That must be Susan. She said she would come for me after she had seen her family."

Gilbert helped her to her feet, and put his hand on her arm, bringing her eyes to his earnestly. "Are you upset with me for asking about all of this?"

Anne sighed, and he waited nervously. "No. It needed to be laid to rest, I suppose."

He swallowed, letting his hand slide down her arm until his fingers brushed her palm. "It did. I hope you know that it wasn't about forgiveness- not now. I just needed to understand."

Anne's cheeks were pink, and she studied the ground beneath them. "I know. And you're right, it does matter now." She looked up at him, unaccountably wistful, and he lightly brushed her cheek with one finger, wanting to erase the sadness there.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Anne."

Anne smiled sadly. "Can you ever forgive me for hurting you?"

He smiled back, a weight he had carried for so long falling from his shoulders. "You know I have. Friends?"

Anne's glance met his own, and his heart leapt strangely at something unknown in her expression. "Always."

Gilbert turned to walk Anne up the hill, carefully assisting her now and muttering asides that had her shaking with laughter. When they reached the top of the hill unsteadily, Anne's cheeks were bright, and her face had a lightness to it that it had not worn earlier. As he helped her cross the dusty road, he gave Susan a courteous nod, trying to ignore her horrified look at his attire.

"Did you have a nice time with your sister, Susan?" Anne asked, trying not to smile at the housekeeper's distress. At her nod, Anne continued kindly. "Susan, Doctor Blythe was a captain of the football, rowing and marathon teams at Redmond. He was getting some exercise when he found me on the beach after I'd slipped in the sand."

Susan put her hands on her hips. "Oh, _Anne_. This is precisely why I didn't want to leave you here!" she said crossly. " _Why_ you couldn't have just come with me-"

Anne turned towards the setting sun, her bright eyes scanning the horizon. "Oh, but Susan, the shore is lovely on a day like today. It's so cleansing for the soul."

An unconvinced Susan fussed and clucked over her as Gilbert helped her into the buggy. Anne bent down towards him, her face droll.

"Oh dear. I think I'll be sent to bed early for this." At his laugh, Anne smiled. "You know, I have missed our arguments, Gil."

He laughed then and stood to watch the buggy pull away. He waved as it went around the bend, and after a moment began to jog back down the dunes to where a patient Hippocrates was waiting tied to a post. As Gilbert mounted his horse, he thought about the difference in her when she left- the emotions that crossed her face, her laugh, the colour in her cheeks. He smiled then. He _knew_ it. Somewhere, underneath everything she had gone through, Anne had always been there.

* * *

A week later, Gilbert Blythe stood in his regular pew at church next to Andrew and Lizzie. He heard the tap of a cane on the floor and turned to see Anne stepping into one of the back pews, glad at that moment she wasn't looking at him. A shy look that melted his heart was on her face, and she wore a simple green dress, with touches of creamy lace at her throat and sleeves. He smiled tenderly, seeing her tuck a vibrant red curl behind one ear as she sat down, and the only thought that made sense through the buzzing in his mind was this- _now that's my girl_. A gaggle of people entered just then, and large feathered hats and gentleman's bowlers hid her from his sight. Suddenly, Gilbert came to himself and turned to the front, his eyes glassy.

Andrew looked at him in consternation. "What is it, Gil? You look like you're about to faint."

Somehow a pale Gilbert found his voice, and his tone was ironic. "Oh, nothing I shouldn't have seen coming. I've managed to turn fifteen again."

Andrew looked at him in mock horror. "Good Lord, it better not be catching."

The opening hymn began then, and Gilbert was quick to open the book before him, his mind now working too busily to see that the pages were upside down.

After the service, when a shell-shocked Gilbert had himself under better control, he saw Lizzie and Andrew talking to Anne and Susan across the courtyard, and slowly walked over to join the group. Anne's cheeks were pink when she caught his eyes, and he reached up a hand to gently brush the pale green puffed sleeves. To his surprise, her cheeks only grew warmer, and her grey-green eyes faltered under golden lashes. She surprised him, then.

"Not one single _word_ , Doctor Blythe," she muttered before flouncing off, leaving a stunned Gilbert under the trees laughing.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The early morning sun was just hitting the rocks behind Gilbert, where he sat on the loneliest part of the rocky shore. He'd recklessly climbed down there, taking odd pleasure in the sheer physicality of the exercise. It had been years since he'd been so active. He'd seen the place from a distance, and been seized by the desire to go there- and would not admit that the reason he had chosen it was completely ridiculous.

It was because there was no way on earth that Anne Shirley could get down here.

If she did he'd be furious- it wasn't safe for her. But he'd needed to escape for a time. She had now invaded every part of this shore for him- he saw her in the red of the sands, the stormy grey seas, even the flash of the lighthouse beacon at night. It had been that way for months, he could see that now. There was a faint smile that curved in his lips then, at the places he had come upon her unexpectedly here- never more so than her sandy tumble down the hill a week ago.

As the faint warmth of the sun began to penetrate his bones, Gilbert leaned back against the rocks with a sigh and closed his eyes. No one would want him for hours yet, he hoped. He turned his head to see the movement of gulls hovering above the steel grey waters, waves that looked small, but up close were enormous, well able to drown a man. Gilbert picked up a smooth stone beside him, pausing to throw it down towards the water, hearing it bounce as it hit the rocks.

So _this_ was what it was like to be in love with Anne Shirley all over again.

Alone on the rock face, he relished in the sensation, his eyes closed.

It was unsettling _not_ to be unsettled about it- especially since he had fought so hard at coming to this point. But there was no more running now. As he stared at the golden track the sunrise created on the water, he sighed. He'd been asleep, it seemed- and had awoken now with a vengeance.

A wry chuckle came from Gilbert's throat- how many times in the past had he taken Anne to task about the feasibility of fairy tales? _This_ one was unrealistic, this one too complicated- who measured the worth of a prospective daughter-in-law with a pea under a mattress? One balmy summer night in Hester Grey's garden he'd baited and debated her about the story of _Sleeping Beauty_ \- enjoying the flush on Anne's cheeks, and her passion as she defended her beloved stories.

 _"Would you want to be woken up like that?"_

 _"By someone who had thought me worth risking fire or dragon, yes!"_

Gilbert rubbed his face wearily. How he'd wanted to tell her the truth- that he would go through anything for the chance to be with her. Over and over, he'd risked her anger to hear her defend _love_ to him, and by doing so given her every reason to believe that his practicality over-rode any sense of romance. His smile faded. He should have known her better- no wonder she'd not considered him as a suitor back then. She didn't see that _she_ was his romance.

Sitting now on the rocky outcropping, Gilbert came face to face with the simple truth. There was no falling in love with Anne _again_. He knew that already. He'd always been in love with her. Anne was why he'd never been able to seriously consider anyone else- she was why everyone else fell short. What was worse, he realised with shame that he'd been fighting it since he first saw her in Andrew's home- the very reason he had been so angry. The emotions that had rushed over him like the biggest of breakers had drenched him immediately. There was no more running, no more pretending to not recognise his own heart. Gilbert's skin seemed to burn as he recalled the way he had handled things over the last few months- he'd argued and badgered her, he'd fussed and confronted her on things she hadn't wanted to discuss- how had she let him do that? And then a white heat rushed through him at the times he had insisted on checking her ankle, and he covered his face with a deep groan.

 _Oh God, he'd even had his hands under her dress… How had he dared to be so bold with her?_

Gilbert breathed in and out slowly, willing his pulse to calm. It was alright- he'd done nothing inappropriate. He was a doctor. Still, he hoped fervently that it wouldn't happen again, at least till they'd come to some kind of understanding. He'd be lucky if he could sit next to her now without falling apart. As he studied the shore in the distance, Gilbert thought about the chance of her moving to the Glen when she did. A cold shiver hit him when he realised how close it had come to never seeing her again. Would he ever have gone home? Would he ever have known? A sudden panic filled his chest. What if she'd been unable to work, or was all alone? What if, God forbid, she hadn't survived the fall? For long minutes he let himself feel the full impact of the chance that they had now- a chance that he'd nearly lost.

The questions kept coming, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. What was it that had drawn Anne here to Four Winds? Was she, like he was to her, bound to him in some way? Did she feel something for him?

He'd tried to make sense of it all last night. Lying in bed, replaying every word she had spoken, every gesture, until he could unwrap the riddle that was his relationship with Anne. His limbs were too restless to sleep, and he'd ended up pacing his darkened house through the middle of the night.

Slowly, his thoughts began to unfold. She _cared_. It was impossible, unlikely, unattainable- but somehow, she did. A tremor shot through him as he stood in the darkness of his lounge room. She was his friend- but more than that was surely unthinkable. His breath came fast now, as he allowed the question to form in his mind.

 _Could_ she- did she actually, or was it possible- that Anne- _loved_ —

He moved to stand by the open window, breathing deeply of the cool breeze coming through the valley. Every interaction with her in the last few months flicked through his mind- the harsh words he had spoken to her on the night they had met, the guarded way she had explained her presence in his town. The way she had chosen to open up to him about Marilla, about Roy, Owen- the heartbreaking look of patient grief that she had worn. She had been proud and fought him coming in as her doctor, fighting to maintain her independence in a way that only Anne Shirley could do. She didn't need him, didn't expect anything of him- and yet she made it clear that he was welcome.

Impulsively Gilbert strode out of his front door and onto the lawn, feeling oddly stifled in the quiet house. With a groan he flopped down on the grass, staring into the night sky. The stars above him burned brilliantly, and an old poem he and Anne had once studied together came to mind- the poet who had claimed that not even the stars above could match the wonder of being _loved_.*

Was it possible that it was so obvious, and yet he hadn't seen it? He'd thought that the accident had changed her- and perhaps it had. But her gentleness in the face of his anger, the astonishing way she had forgiven him for the hurtful things he had said made him wonder. He'd made her angry, he'd stepped on her boundaries- and yet she'd allowed him to apologise. Without placing any expectations on him, she'd simply been her own dear self, hidden under more layers of pain than anyone should have had to deal with. She'd known such hurt- and yet could it be possible that what had happened between them had hurt her as much as it had him? That _had_ to be love, didn't it?

Gilbert watched the movement of the skies for an hour, and his breath began to come more quickly when he, at last, came to the enamel heart he had given her. She'd thought him married- thought that she would never see him again. She'd broken it, but kept it- she'd worn it all these years. She'd been jealous- Anne was _never_ jealous.

No, it had to be true. If it _was_ \- and Anne never lied- then she'd cared for him all along. It wasn't about him dying- it wasn't about her being alone now. Gilbert sat up suddenly, his burning eyes turned in the direction of the schoolhouse, less than a mile away from him. She should be asleep, perhaps dreaming- what did she dream of now?

"She _does_ ," he whispered, letting himself hear the words. "She _loves_ me." He walked up the stairs in a dreamlike state and closed the door behind him. After a moment of intense silence, Gilbert thrust his fists in the air with a triumphant yell that rang through the dead of the night.

Now he sat alone on the rock face in the morning sunshine, wondering at his own blindness. He'd always thought he was intelligent enough to know what he felt- now he saw that he'd only been waiting for some sign from her, one that he had never expected to get. Gilbert stood up then, his eyes roving the landscape hungrily. It would all be different now- he knew her better. And if he was wrong, and she was happy with how things were between them, he could only pray that he would be able to see it. A smile began to creep across his tired face in the morning light, a lightness that came with a decision already made. If it was true that she loved him then there was only one course ahead of him.

* * *

When Andrew walked into Gilbert's office that same morning, he stopped in consternation. Gilbert was coat-less and standing in front of a little mirror, wincing as he pressed a piece of cloth to a scrape on his forehead.

"What on earth did you _do_?"

Gilbert turned around sheepishly. "Rock climbing. I needed some air."

Andrew sat down on the other side of Gilbert's desk and chuckled. "You know you don't have to go anywhere to get that."

Gilbert splashed a little alcohol on his hands and threw himself into his chair with a groan. "Oh, I just needed to do some thinking."

"You missed a spot," Andrew commented, pointing to Gilbert's elbow.

"I forgot about that."

While Gilbert rolled up his sleeves to tend to the cut on his arm, Andrew put his hands behind his head. "I just dropped Lizzie off at school- I wanted to find out how she's going in class."

"Oh?"

"Since Penny left, she's very emotional. Still, Anne says she's doing fine."

The sponge slipped from Gilbert's fingers then, and he caught at it before it could fall to the floor. "That's- er, that's good. How- how is Anne this morning?"

"Oh, fine." Andrew watched him with a little smirk. "She looks lovely in purple, don't you think?"

Gilbert's head flew up, a light in his eyes that he couldn't disguise. " _Purple_?"

Andrew grinned. "Yes. Lizzie was enraptured and asked her where her pretty dresses have been all this time."

Gilbert chuckled. "I'm sure Anne felt that way about them too."

Andrew steepled his fingers together, watching Gilbert in silence with the careful eyes of a lawyer. Something was different. He chose now to address it bluntly. "Now while the new colours of Anne's wardrobe are very interesting; Gil, when are you going to admit that you're head over heels in love with her?"

Unluckily Gilbert had been moving the basin of water as Andrew spoke, and Andrew leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being drenched. Gilbert was swift to mop up the mess with an old rag, his cheeks burning. When he was done, he wiped his forehead and sighed.

"Alright. Will _now_ do?" he asked his friend.

Andrew stared at him comically. " _Now_?"

"Yes. Now."

Andrew grinned, coming close to slap Gilbert on the back. "Atta boy! I thought it would take you a lot longer than that. I was preparing to present evidence and everything."

Gilbert rubbed his face with a sheepish look. "There's no need. I'm quite used to making an idiot of myself about Anne."

Andrew's laugh was loud and long. "Well, if you'll forgive the expression Gil, it's bloody well about time."

Gilbert touched his scratched forehead wryly. "Literally, it seems."

Andrew pulled Gilbert's coat from the rack with a grin. "Come on, I need pie for this conversation- and Patty's been missing us."

Springtime was evidently in the air as the gentlemen walked down the street. After the two of them placed their orders in the tea room, Andrew and Gilbert sat outside in the sunshine.

"So are you going to talk to her about everything now?"

Gilbert stretched out his long legs with relief. "I did. A week ago."

Andrew looked at him in surprise. "You've done it?"

Gilbert folded his arms. "I know what happened- or enough, anyway."

Andrew took a sip of his tea. "Oh?"

A long sigh came from the man across from him. Gilbert's certainty was so new- he was almost afraid to put it into words, lest he begin to believe it too good to be true. "There was a lot of misunderstanding. Most of it our fault- but some was from outside sources." Gilbert scowled, thinking of Josie's spiteful words. "She- cared. All the time, she cared about me. I believed her indifferent- and she wasn't. But she wasn't ready for me back then. And to be honest, I probably wasn't ready to propose when I did." He sighed, looking out on the quiet street. Andrew's look was thoughtful, and he watched his friend silently. "I'm three years older than she is. Did you know that?"

Andrew chuckled. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Back then, a lot. It meant I was ready long before she was, and I should have seen the signs of that. She was eleven before she became part of a stable family. I always wondered if that made a difference." Gilbert said absently. "And maybe she needed to be with Gardner for a time- maybe she needed to figure out some things first. The way she's responded to me over the last few months- I just wonder if I'd waited back then, if I'd not been so terrified of losing her- maybe we could have prevented all of this from happening." He sighed and sat up. "But that's neither here nor there. We're here _now_."

Andrew's smile grew. "So what next?"

Gilbert stuffed his hands in his pockets then, his eyes lighting up. "Now I set out to win Anne Shirley properly."

At this Andrew gave a derisive hoot. "Gil, you can't tell that you've already won? I've seen the way she looks at you- Penny's been writing weekly to ask if the two of you have made any progress yet."

Gilbert choked slightly. " _Penny_ has?"

"Yes. She told me to tell you to get a move on. Anne needs you, and Lord help us, you need _her_."

"Well, I'm not rushing anything," Gilbert said stubbornly. "I've waited half my life for her- sometimes unwillingly, it's true- but I want to enjoy this. And she deserves better than another rushed proposal. She's had a rough couple of years- and if it takes me a bit longer to win her heart, then so be it."

"And if you find out she's ready _now_?"

Gilbert drew in a deep breath. "Then nothing will keep me from her."

* * *

On Friday afternoon at Rosewood cottage, Susan had just pulled some cakes from the oven when she heard the gentle tap of Anne's cane in the entryway and turned to see her enter, her satchel dropped on the chair with a sigh of relief.

"You're a little late," Susan commented comfortably, as she placed her towel over the chair, and went to pull the kettle from the stove. "Your letters are on your bed, dearie."

Anne smiled with relief. "Thank you, Susan. I'll go and get changed before tea, I think."

Susan watched her go with a short sigh. Owen Ford's abrupt departure had been the subject of much conjecture in the local post office that day, where several ladies had been discussing the situation- including Owen's housekeeper, who was now seeking employment elsewhere. All conversation had ceased when Susan entered the building, and more than one pair of eyes had turned to the housekeeper curiously. It was known that he had visited Miss Shirley from time to time- and that Miss Shirley had been declared very lucky to catch the author's attention in the first place.

Susan had greeted the women coolly, answering questions about Anne's well-being in as little detail as was polite. More than one person had stopped her on her way home that day- a young mother wanted to let Miss Shirley know that her son could now say his alphabet perfectly, another to remind Anne that her daughter was sensitive to noise- could she _please_ not clap her chalkboard dusters so loudly? Susan had learned to take it in her stride, however, the gossip was another matter. More than one ladies aider had discovered in past months that Susan would not hear anything negative said about Anne.

Susan had watched Anne carefully in the wake of Owen's last visit to the cottage, all the time berating herself for not being careful enough about him. When she arrived home that same night, she and Anne had had a long talk about what had occurred. Anne felt it best to be as straight to the point as she could, and a horrified Susan had apologised for not learning more about him beforehand.

Anne had lovingly but firmly told Susan that it was not her job to protect her. She had sent Susan to bed then, assuring her that she was fine, and that a quiet night was all she required. She had been relieved to hear that Doctor Blythe had checked on her- with Penny gone, Susan had been concerned that Anne had no one to talk to but herself- and she was forced to admit reluctantly that the ways of the younger generation were beyond her.

Susan hung Anne's satchel on the hook in her office, placing the items inside on her desk as she liked to have them. She could hear Anne moving around in her bedroom, and gave a sigh of relief. Anne was doing well now- but just let any other unwelcome gentleman try to come near her girl again! At that moment her eyes fell on a photo frame that had certainly not been there a week earlier. Susan put Anne's marking on the side of the desk and picked up the frame to study it in wonder. She didn't hear Anne move into the doorway.

"It's from our Redmond days."

Susan turned in shock to see Anne standing there, an arrested look on her face.

"Is this- is this you and Doctor Blythe?"

Anne smiled. "Yes. It's one of the few photos I have with him in it." Anne walked over to her, her stick thumping on the bare wooden floorboards. "We were a part of the debating team- and we were in competition with another university. We won, and our photos were taken that evening. Gil- Doctor Blythe insisted on a photo of the two of us- to- to send to our folks back in Avonlea."

Susan's softening eyes looked at a young, laughing Anne standing straight and tall in the photo, with her hand tucked in the arm of a carelessly handsome young man who could only have been the doctor. She placed the frame down with a lump in her throat and gave Anne a bracing look. "Well, it's a fine picture, and the two of you must have been proud of yourselves. Don't you want to put it on the mantelpiece where the doctor could see it, the next time he comes to tea?"

She watched Anne suddenly flush. "I think not, Susan. He might not wish to be surprised with his younger self again- I think it likely that he didn't keep his own copy." She walked to the desk, and her fingers absently traced the frame.

Susan gave Anne a curious look. "The two of you must have been very close, back then." At the shadow that passed across Anne's face, Susan turned from the desk, regretting that she had commented on it. "Well, I'd best be getting the washing inside, dearie- the evenings are still a mite cool now."

Anne hardly saw her go. She sat down at her desk soberly. The photo had lived in a box of keepsakes in Anne's trunk, ones she had only recently opened. She smiled at the triumphant look on Gilbert's face in the picture- the cockiness that she had teased him about, but secretly loved. Always confident, always ready to argue- always with that bright Blythe look that told her he was certain of his own course.

She studied her nearly twenty-year-old self, remembering the peach gown that the irrepressible Phil had talked her into wearing that evening: a colour Anne certainly would never have picked out for herself. The tilt of her chin, the way Gilbert's hand had rested on her own- it seemed like only yesterday. She swallowed then. It was almost nine years ago now. The carefree young man in the picture had been only weeks away from proposing, and Anne sighed, burying her face in her arms. Had she really been so foolish to be surprised by that? Of _course_ she had known how he felt- she had fought it too hard to be ignorant of the fact. Oh, to be able to go back to that moment again- to somehow ask Gilbert for more time, to tell him that she cared. Anne sighed, thinking of the way Phil had tried to tell her after Gilbert's proposal. In the wake of the events of that summer, Anne realised that it had been why she had allowed some distance to grow between herself and Phil. She had been so terribly, terribly right about everything- and it had hurt her bitterly.

She sat back from her desk now with an odd look on her face. So much had been healed between them after their talk, that a bewildered Anne was still trying to find her feet. Since that day on the shore, Gilbert had called in on her at the schoolhouse one afternoon. He'd brought a tea cake from the bakery, and picnicked with her on the floor of her classroom, drinking tea out of the plain mugs Anne kept in her desk. He had brought Andrew and Lizzie around on Saturday afternoon to help Anne to clear out the remaining flower beds and enjoy the sunshine, and only last night he had called in to discuss- no, actually, she couldn't recall what it was he had come to discuss.

Anne smiled then. Susan had taken herself out of the way- bored by their conversation, she assumed- and in a rare silence she had looked over to see that he had fallen asleep in his chair. Hardly surprising, since he had been up delivering babies the previous night. She had simply watched him for a time, studying his beloved face. The shadows he had worn when she had first come were lesser now- more and more she was seeing the boy she remembered, cheerful and engaged in life. When Susan had come into the room to check on the pair, she had stopped cold and turned with a knowing look on her kind face that Anne luckily did not see.

After a time Anne had reflected with a sigh that he needed his bed, and she resolved to wake him so he could be on his way. She had been somewhat stiff herself that day, and slowly lowered herself to the ground next to his chair. A hand on his was all it had taken, and she had chuckled to see him stir slightly, and his fingers closed around hers unexpectedly.

"I'm up. Did you want to go to bed?" he mumbled.

Anne gulped slightly at his words, her cheeks inexplicably hot at the sound of his husky voice. When Gilbert opened his eyes properly, he saw her looking at him with huge eyes from beside his chair and smiled sheepishly as he tried to repress a yawn. "I'm sorry, it's hardly manners to fall asleep on an evening call, is it?"

Anne found her voice then, her look warm. "You did tell me you could fall asleep anywhere. Although is this perhaps a comment on how interesting you find me?"

He smiled, and bent in closer to her face. "Come on, I've always found you interesting, Carrots." He reached gentle fingers to brush a red curl behind her ear. Perhaps in that moment of stillness, he was testing the waters a little when his hand moved to her soft cheek. She didn't move away, and his heart almost stopped as she closed her eyes, and turned into his palm for a brief second. Gilbert's hand shook. He wasn't imagining this. He swallowed as she pulled away, rising to hold his hands out to help her up. The exquisite tension in the room was swiftly broken by her laughter when she stumbled on stiff feet, thankfully with his hands to steady her again.

"I know. I make all the ladies swoon," he said matter-of-factly, and Anne's eyebrow lifted in humour.

"And what of the ladies who _refuse_ to swoon over you?"

Gilbert pulled his coat on with a little smile. " _They're_ the ones I like, Anne."

When the two of them stood before Anne's front door, she had handed him his hat. "You need sleep, Gil. You aren't going home to sit up reading, are you?" she asked archly.

"I won't if you don't," he countered, and she smiled. "Will I see you at the church fete on Saturday?"

Anne nodded. "Of course."

Gilbert stood without moving, and Anne watched him with warm cheeks. "You know, I can't help but noticing that you haven't gone yet," she said lightly. To her surprise, his voice was serious as he met her gaze.

"Because I don't want to."

In confusion, Anne went to turn from him until he caught her hand in his. Slowly, Gilbert pulled her back toward him, wondering if she felt it- if she could see anything different in him. "Do _you_ want me to?" he asked quietly. The wait seemed interminable until she swallowed, and mustering her courage, she shook her head mutely. She could hear Susan making unnecessary noise in the kitchen so late in the evening and slowly came back to herself with a blush. He rolled his eyes and smiled at her then. " _Nevertheless_ -"

"Nevertheless," she echoed faintly.

He released her hand then. "I'll be sure to find you on Saturday. Good night, Anne."

When the door closed behind him, a shaken Anne slipped down onto the floor to lean against the wall, her legs trembling. What on earth was happening between them? Surely it couldn't mean anything, it _couldn't_ -

"Anne!" Susan's worried voice cried as she came into the hall, and Anne smiled at the way she rushed to her side. "Do you want me to call Doctor Blythe back? Are you hurt?"

To the housekeeper's consternation, Anne began to laugh helplessly. "Susan darling, that would be completely counter-productive."

"You aren't making any sense-"

Anne hauled herself up, steadied by Susan's arm. "No matter. There's no need to get Gilbert; after all, the poor man needs his bed- and I need mine. Would you be a dear and help me in there? My foot isn't being at all cooperative today."

She'd been tucked into bed with a cup of tea and warned that if she didn't sleep properly, that Susan would cancel Anne's class for herself. As a matter of fact, she had slept better than she had in a long time- and her day had gone exceptionally well.

* * *

In the present, Anne pushed up from her desk, pausing to touch his photo with gentle fingers. In truth, she didn't fear Gilbert seeing it- she only feared that her own heart would be more exposed than it already was. So much had happened between them since she moved to the Glen; she'd begun to heal, they both had. In some ways, the two of them were closer than they had ever been.

Months ago Anne had needed to make a choice: whether she could lower her defenses to the man she loved, knowing he had the power to hurt her more than anyone else. She drew in a deep breath, brushing the red hair off her forehead.

She still had to trust.

* * *

* _Of Pearls and Stars_ , by Heinrich Heine


	27. Chapter 27

**You all rock- you really do.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

The church fete was in full swing when Gilbert finished his calls for the day, and he walked onto the church grounds straightening his best tie. His last visit had been to a house that boasted two small rooms- and two oversized dogs. After the owners had insisted that the 'pups' had only been playing with him, Gilbert decided that a bath and change of clothes would be in order before he could be amongst people again. The gnarled blossom trees that flanked the gate to the church courtyard were in full bloom, and Gilbert nodded at various people as he walked through.

He smiled. Children ran to and fro with happy shouts, and all around him was the sound of laughter and merriment. Booming voices of men standing near the wagons, and women standing in the sunshine, wearing light-coloured dresses after the cold of winter had ended. He stopped briefly to greet several gentlemen around a table graced by the Ladies' Missionary Society, where Mrs. Marshall Elliot held court. She stepped out from behind the punch bowl to greet Gilbert, her voluminous apron starched to perfection under a wide brimmed hat.

"Doctor Blythe, I'm so glad you could make it- feel free to wander around, there's plenty of time before you're wanted."

Gilbert's natural courtesy was in evidence, however internally he was scrambling to remember what she had asked him to do. Something of this must have shown on his face, for Mrs. Elliot studied him shrewdly. "The baking competition, Doctor Blythe? It _is_ a long-held tradition here; your uncle judged with wisdom and discernment for many years-"

"Mrs. Elliot, I would be honored," Gilbert said hastily. "Although are you sure you wouldn't rather choose someone else to assist you this year?"

She moved a plate of cakes to the front of the table with an amused look. "Consider last year a lesson in what not to do, Doctor Blythe. Always remember, trying to please everyone will please no one." Mrs. Elliot gave a rare smile. "Compliments may cost nothing, but the women of the association can spot false praise a mile off."

A slightly abashed Gilbert nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Elliot."

"It's good to see you getting out and about more, doctor," Cornelia added, her eagle eyes scanning the courtyard for things out of place. "Now, I hear the Johnston baby is a little girl?"

Gilbert smiled. Miss Cornelia could be guaranteed to know almost before he did. "Yes, Mrs. Elliot. She was born last night just after eight. Mother and baby are doing very well."

Her face was triumphant. "Aha! I told her it was a girl this time, despite what her father claimed."

"Well, her father is thrilled with the new arrival, as are her brothers," Gilbert said firmly.

"Oh, Stephen would be well pleased enough with himself, no matter what sex the baby was. He always did take credit for the children, as if he'd been the one to carry them. How exactly like a man. Now, Doctor Blythe, have you taken a look at the craft stall? All of the proceeds will go to the orphanage in Charlottetown, Lord knows what those poor children have to live through-"

Gilbert shook his head, trying to smile. "I know. I'll go and have a look now."

He escaped Mrs. Elliot's piercing gaze and began to wander the field. He spoke with many of his patients, trying to not get caught talking. Yes, his parents had enjoyed seeing Four Winds again. No, the previous Mrs. Doctor Blythe would not be returning to the Glen anytime soon, Aunt Katherine was living with her sister in New Brunswick now. Yes, he missed his Uncle Dave too- well, no one _could_ quite fill his shoes, could they? And lastly, Miss Winston was living happily in Montreal, and Gilbert supposed that her brother might know how she was doing. Gilbert tore himself away from the last group of mothers, all of whom began to chatter excitedly in his wake. They'd wondered if Penny had only gone home to prepare her trousseau: well, if Miss Winston would not be claiming their eligible young doctor, then who would? Jessica Clary was coming home to look after her mother, they'd heard- she was a trained nurse, now. Perhaps that would be the start of something.

Gilbert had been searching for Anne amongst the crowd for some time before he found her. A smile broke over his face at the sight of her under some trees, and he began to move in her direction. Of course, he was stopped every few steps by someone or other, either wanting a suspicious rash checked, or to ask if he could see if the baby was gaining weight properly. Gilbert answered all inquiries as patiently as he could, his head craning to see her red head. When at last he made it to where he had seen her, he found her standing with a group of men and women talking. Gilbert stared at her in some bewilderment, trying to understand what seemed so different about her in that moment. She was standing tall with her polished walking stick, wearing a perfectly trimmed blue suit, her hat tilted slightly over one eye- looking for all the world like the society women Jeremy had introduced him to over the years. He came closer to listen to the discussion.

"The nearest high school is quite some distance away, Mr. Peters," Anne was saying diplomatically. "While some parents chose to send their children to Queens for further education, a significant number of people would prefer to have their children educated without the need to have them formally qualify as teachers. The board of Education is considering placing a high school in Lowbridge- however that depends on the support of the local communities."

An older gentleman, one of the board members of the school spoke up then. "Miss Shirley, surely the community needs to keep their attention on the local schools- right now you teach children up to the age of sixteen. Surely if families require more, they can search elsewhere."

Anne's voice was firm. "My oldest students are sixteen, yes, and I am quite hopeful that some of them will go on to further education. I am quite happy to teach students for as long as they are willing to learn- however I don't for a moment consider that a small classroom can offer the extent of learning that a dedicated high school can do." The little man had his mouth open to refute her argument, however, Anne smiled. "Four Winds will only continue to grow, Mr. Samuels- the distance between us and Lowbridge grows smaller every year. I firmly believe that in time, the investment in higher education will only become more necessary- and that it will benefit all communities that choose to support it."

Gilbert stood in the back and smiled proudly. Anne was the perfect person to champion education- and not for the first time, he realised that she was well and truly over-qualified to teach in the little Glen school. Was she honestly content here?

The discussion went on a few minutes longer until the gentlemen dispersed, upon being called to their duties by the fete organisers. Gilbert then approached Anne with a smile, his hands deep in the pockets of his light suit.

"I almost didn't recognise you, Miss Shirley."

Anne chuckled. "Oh. Well, Susan insisted that I should dress up for today."

Gilbert shook his head. "No, I'd just forgotten how easily you hold an audience in the palm of your hand- you're as persuasive as you ever were." He offered her his arm easily, and the two of them walked over to some chairs that had been placed under the trees. Anne sat down with a sigh, smiling as Gilbert settled next to her.

"To be honest, what you saw was the product of five years of experience paying court to the various board members, governors, and local officials in Summerside." Anne began to laugh then at his raised eyebrow. "School events in Summerside were quite grandiose affairs, and Katherine insisted that she not speak to any of them. She could be somewhat acerbic when she was fed up with the politics of the place, and had already offended many of them before I got there."

Gilbert studied her then. "That's not really your scene either, though."

Anne tilted her head, her grey eyes twinkling. "No, it's not. However, I _did_ learn to work with it- there are seasons when it's quite helpful to be comfortable with publicity. Usually with the ' _My dear young lady_ ' types."

This made him laugh. "You might have liked Montreal, then. Hospital fundraisers and medical symposiums were all the same- it was a language that you had to learn to speak. I was never brilliant at it."

Anne was thoughtful. "I shouldn't think you were, Gil- but by choice. You don't want that life."

"Meaning that you did?" He looked at her in some surprise, however, the girl he knew well smiled.

"Not at all. However, I found that I couldn't fight battles for education passively- I needed to be able to speak up, to fight fire with fire, so to speak. Whether it was talking with society parents wanting their daughters to leave school early, or fighting for those less privileged to be given opportunities to further their education. I had to debate those issues with the elite of society, people who were not used to being told that they were wrong. And I needed to remain professional to do so."

The chair they had chosen was out of the way, and Gilbert watched her begin to relax now. That was it, he realised. That was the face she had needed to present every day in her job for five years. "Do you miss it at all? The bigger school, bigger influence?"

She shook her head with an easy glance. "Not at all. Like you, I had to learn to do that. I hope I will always be able to speak up for those hungry for education- however, I love my work here. Even if I do find it hard to keep my sixteen-year-olds busy while I deal with the little ones," she said with a chuckle.

Without warning, Anne and Gilbert's discussion was disrupted by the arrival of an exuberant Lizzie. "Miss Shirley!" she squealed, and threw herself at her beloved teacher.

Gilbert caught the way Anne winced at the strong little body climbing on her lap, and moved Lizzie off her swiftly. "What are you up to, little miss? Where is Papa?"

Lizzie scratched her nose in unconcern. "He's talking with Mrs Linden again. Oh! There's Bessie! I have to go!" She scrambled off Gilbert's lap, and Anne laughed at the chagrined look on his face.

"She's getting too big to do that now," he said with a wheeze. "Elbows and knees everywhere."

Anne's eyes had found Andrew, and she nudged Gilbert. "I didn't know that he knew Charlotte Linden."

Gilbert grinned. "He makes it his business to know everyone. How do you know her?"

Anne effortlessly tucked a loose red curl into a pin, her smile wistful. "Her son is in my class. Did you know her husband?"

The doctor gave a small sigh. "A little. One of my first patients here, in fact."

Anne was thoughtful. "Susan and I visit them whenever we can- they live quite close to us. She misses Eric terribly. They were in school together, did you know? She's a wonderful mother, Gil. Gentle, patient, and so loving."

Gilbert nodded, and then looked at Anne warily. She had a little smile on her face, and at last, he folded his arms, amused. "Anne, what are you up to?"

Her grey eyes were wide, and he shook his head. "Nothing! But-" her face fell. "Oh, wouldn't it be so lovely? For Andrew and Charlotte, for the children-"

Gilbert smiled at her affectionately. "Maybe they aren't ready to think about that, yet."

Anne sighed. "Perhaps not. But just look at them, Gil. I would love to see them both happy."

"What about you?"

A startled Anne turned to look at him, seeing an odd intensity in his hazel eyes. She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

"Are _you_ happy?"

After a moment, she spoke. "Yes," she said softly. Something unknown in Gilbert's expression made her pause. "That surprises you?"

Gilbert floundered, trying to explain his reaction. "No- it- it shouldn't. You were always someone who saw the best in things- or the very worst if it involved your imagination." She laughed, remembering the many times he had pulled her back from a full blown anxiety attack in their early Redmond days. He continued, his eyes distant. "I suppose I wondered- after everything that has happened- the accident- with you coming here- I wondered if you didn't sometimes wish for more than this." He looked out towards the horizon, not sure that he wanted to know.

"I am happy," she said with decision. "I wouldn't have chosen to get hurt, it's true. But it led me here- and this is my home now. And I-" here she drew in a shaking breath. "I found something I thought I had lost." Where the courage came to say this, Anne didn't know.

The two of them sat in silence for a time, and Gilbert tried to control his frantic heart. He couldn't bring it up here- not with everyone around- and did she even mean what he thought she did? Unable to stop himself from asking the question, he cleared his throat huskily. "Us?"

When he looked over at Anne, her grey eyes fell and her cheeks reddened, and suddenly he didn't see the elegant gown, the poised manner. Instead, he saw the red-headed girl who had reached out her hand to him thirteen years ago. The wave of gratitude that flooded him now made him almost incoherent, and he moved closer to her with a yearning look in his eyes that was unmistakable.

A step beside Gilbert at that moment made the two of them jump back, and Andrew Winston's brows rose in amusement at the obvious distraction of the pair. "Doctor Blythe, Mrs Elliot is looking for you."

Gilbert was unable to change track so quickly, and could only look at his friend in bewilderment. "What? _Why_?"

"Apparently you forgot to write your comments down for the pie competition- and the ladies are becoming a trifle impatient."

Gilbert's eyes swung towards the podium, where several militant looking women stood eyeballing him ferociously from a distance. He resisted the temptation to tell Andrew to find someone else to annoy, and stood up slowly. He then turned to Anne.

"Come with me."

Anne had recovered her equilibrium now, and teased him. "On, no; Gilbert, they want _you_."

"Yes, like rabid wolves want a meal," he muttered darkly. "Come on Anne, you can help me out of this mess."

Anne couldn't help chuckling as Gilbert handed her the walking stick, and her hand was tucked into the crook of his arm. Andrew walked beside Anne as well, bending in close to keep Anne in fits of laughter.

"His charm utterly deserted him last time. Last year he praised the children's baking more than their mother's- and offended more than one dear lady in the process. For example, little Almira Clow's apple pie won, but her mother's _didn't_ \- despite them using the same recipe- and Mrs Drew complained that her daughter's pie was slighted because Doctor Blythe only tried one mouthful."

"She left out the sugar," Gilbert grumbled, still not thrilled at having their moment interrupted. "And I still don't know why they won't use _you_."

Andrew grinned. "Because they get me to judge the vegetable competition at the harvest fair. I have a reputation for knowing potatoes."

"Says the fellow who never grew any," Gilbert retorted.

Anne knew the rivaling families very well by this point, and as they neared the tables she looked at Gilbert with twinkling eyes. "Well, let's see if we can't rescue your reputation as a judge of fine food, Gil. No one could best your mother when it came to pies- and you are a pillar of the community, after all."

For the next half an hour, Anne led Gilbert around the tables, talking with beaming young bakers and their mothers about their work, discussing baking powder brands and the merits of using lard over butter. Gilbert was mesmerized by her way with people, even with those he knew to be her harshest critics behind closed doors. She coaxed a smile from the crotchety Mrs Shelby, and she and Gilbert spent time interviewing the Wilson twins about the unusual flavours they had chosen. Gilbert followed her about with a little smile, writing comments down and finding his task lightened by her presence beside him. He watched her bend down to kiss Susan's mother affectionately, and the older woman patted her cheek, saying something in her ear that turned Anne's cheeks a rosy pink again.

Andrew stood beside him while the minister was deliberating over the scores, and Gilbert turned at his blunt words. "Don't wait, Gil. Just- don't. She's standing by your side- she's making you look good even with these combative females- she's as devoted to you as any wife could be. Don't wait any longer to tell her."

Gilbert had trouble clearing his throat, seeing Anne turn to face him with a brilliant smile in the afternoon sunshine. His heart pounded at what he kept seeing on her face- and the future he had longed for seemed so tangible now. One day, she would be here with him, she wouldn't be pried from his side by the need for propriety- his breath caught suddenly, watching a young child run into her arms- imagining a golden band on her finger, and a hand resting on the belly that was swollen with their child. She would be _breathtaking_. How could he bear so much happiness at once?

Gilbert's head lifted then, and there was a firmness in his tone. "I'm not. But we need some time alone- and I'll be honest, that was much easier to come by when we were younger- I don't suppose anyone knew where we were, most of the time. It's got to be different, now."

Andrew exhaled. "So- just begin to court her already."

"We already are, I think." In the silence that followed, Gilbert suddenly smiled. Society would keep standing in the way- so perhaps they should do what they had done years ago. They would have to bend some rules. He turned to Andrew curiously. "Why so anxious for my romance? You've sat in the wings for months."

"Because I was just looking at her with you- and it was like seeing my Maddie," he said quietly. "That's what she used to be for me. I should have asked her to marry me earlier- I shouldn't have waited so long for us to be together."

The two of them watched the minister stand on the podium with ribbons in hand, and after a moment Gilbert nodded. As Anne began to move toward them, his voice was low. "It's alright to tell me to mind my own business- but one day it might be you deciding to do it all over again. You deserve that."

Andrew gave a slight smile. "Maybe. She'll have to be quite exceptional."

Anne came to stand by Gilbert with a sigh, and in a movement as natural as breathing Gilbert tucked her hand back under his arm. She looked at him with a big smile. "The ladies think you positively wonderful, Gilbert. The legendary Blythe charm strikes again."

Gilbert grinned. "I think that was your influence, Anne. Last time they declared me incompetent."

Andrew shot Anne a wicked look. "They said that he couldn't tell the difference between apple and turnip."

"I'm pretty sure it _was_ a turnip."

Anne turned to the two men with a smile. "Well, Susan and I would love it if the two of you and Lizzie would come to dinner with us this evening- we somehow managed to cook twice as much food as was needed for today. Come and help us to eat it all."

Andrew shot Gilbert a questioning look, however over Anne's head Gilbert shook his head at him and smiled. "We'd all love to come."

Andrew nodded courteously then. "Thank you. Is cooking something you enjoy, Anne?"

She gave him a bright glance. "Well, thanks to Marilla, I am a reasonably good cook- as long as I am paying attention."

At Gilbert's snort, a grinning Andrew turned to Anne. "I do hope that means a story."

Gilbert's laughter meant that Anne didn't need to reply, however her look was mischievous. "Several stories, I'm afraid. I believe I'll save that for dinner tonight."

* * *

Almost a week later, while the owl that lived in the pine tree behind the cottage hooted softly, Anne sat awake in her dimly lit room, dressed in her nightgown and robe. Her freshly washed hair was hanging loose, and a hairbrush dangling limply in her hand. She pulled the chair that sat by her bed to the window, and had opened it to admit the fresh breeze into her room. She looked out at the moon-rise with a wistful gaze, seeing the leaves on the trees move gently. The white curtains moved around her in the wind prompting her to smile as she whispered- "and _we have laughed to see the sails conceive, and grow big-bellied with the wanton wind._ " She sighed, and then a suddenly pragmatic voice inexplicably commented- "This is _not_ helping the situation at all."

The reason for this comment had its roots in a dream that had awoken Anne several times the previous week. In the beginning she had arisen, made herself a strong cup of tea, and then put herself back to bed with stern resolve. Susan had become alarmed at this late night prowling though, and an exasperated Anne had simply taken to staying in her room.

The clock had just struck midnight when Anne turned off her lamp, resigned to the fact that sleep was far from her this night. As the curtains blew around her, she lifted her face to the coolness of the breeze against hot cheeks.

It wasn't _logical_. A dream was only that- and nothing more. Still, the ache in her chest when she would awake seemed to indicate more than she could dismiss logically. She closed her eyes for just a moment, willing her pulse to calm. And yet how to prevent something that she secretly wanted to feel?

 _His hazel eyes, burning with intensity…._

Gilbert had visited several times that week. The first time Mr. and Mrs Ruthers had come to call after Gilbert had only just removed his hat, impatient to talk to Anne about an idea for a book club amongst the more literary members of the Four Winds Community. Gilbert sat patiently in his chair with his teacup while the older couple prattled away insufferably. Of course, Doctor Blythe _must_ be a part of it, he was a university fellow, wasn't he? And hadn't Mr. Ford's departure left a hole in the intellectual society of the town?

Anne had looked up in time to catch a rather spectacular eye-roll from Gilbert, and only narrowly escaped choking on one of Susan's pastries. The phone had rung then. Gilbert's dour housekeeper told Susan that the Parker baby was on their way, and Mr. Parker was in an awful state. Gilbert took his hat and coat and left, muttering under his breath at the diabolical nature of timing.

 _\- He pulled her close to him, his strong hands warm through the fabric of her dress…_

The second time he had arrived to walk Anne home from school, finding that he had a few hours free. He almost made it to the cottage that time- before being met by Tommy Barlow, who had been sent to fetch the doctor to the butchers shop. Anne had flinched, expecting to hear that fingers or an arm had been mangled- however, Tommy was placid. The butcher had a bad tooth, and his wife didn't want blood in their house. Anne set lips quivering with laughter firmly, as a muscle jumped in Gilbert's cheek. He turned to her courteously then. "My apologies, Anne. It looks like I am playing dentist for the day."

Tommy spoke up cheerfully. "Mrs Leary said you'd be here, doc- how come you're always hanging out near the schoolhouse?"

Anne couldn't be too disappointed- she was too busy laughing at the sight of the boy being hauled off by a murderous looking physician.

 _His hands ran down to her waist, long fingers splayed against her swelling belly- he cupped her face, his kiss awakening a fire inside-_

Anne covered her face with her hands and sighed. Today letters had arrived from both Diana and Phil- both women hinting that perhaps Gilbert's intentions were not as platonic as Anne had stated firmly in her own letters. Diana was cautious and gentle, however Phil's were a gushing warmth that Anne did not feel up to refuting. She needed to be firm- she would not misunderstand, she would not allow herself to drift into uncertain waters. She could be his friend, and be content.

Perhaps knowing this, Diana's letter had put her finger on the one thing Anne had been trying to avoid.

 _"Sweetie, I want you to listen, and then you can decide for yourself. I have been watching the two of you for a very long time now- and I'm telling you, something has shifted. Anne, I think you have always made the mistake of taking Gilbert at his word. The problem is that you forget what he is saying without words- and when it comes to you that has always been a very different story. I think you felt he broke his word when he wanted more than friendship. But all the while his actions said a lot more than that- and you know that now. Anne, I know you're worried about telling him everything- but he needs to know. Tell him- tell him that you went to him. I don't know how else you can show him that you care. You have come through so much together- and maybe it's the one thing he has been waiting for."_

Anne closed her eyes in exhaustion. It just wouldn't leave her alone. The look that was in his eyes confused her- always in the background, was the sound of his voice telling her to go. She couldn't reconcile the two things- and with a sinking feeling, she realised that this limbo would continue until she spoke. She stood from her chair, her eyes troubled. It was a risk that terrified her- she wouldn't survive losing him again. She knew loss- she knew the pain of having a part of herself ripped apart. _Trust,_ Phil and Di had both said.

Slowly, Anne climbed into her bed, her eyes resolutely turned from the billowing curtains in the moonlight. The last visit had been only hours ago- when a flutter that infuriated Anne had seemed to take possession of her middle. Gilbert had come to the front door that evening with a unexpectedly stubborn look on his face.

"I can't stay, I'm afraid. I think the people of Four Winds have decided that I was becoming bored- and they've all decided to call me at once. But _I've_ decided that I'm taking a day off."

"You can do that?" Anne asked.

He laughed. "I can if I need to. Parker will cover me in an emergency, and I'm not telling anyone where I'll be."

Anne had looked at him curiously, wondering why he was telling her this. "That will be lovely for you, Gil."

He had leaned on the door frame, his look mischievous. "It's a little more than that. Have you noticed that you and I almost never get to finish a conversation?"

Anne had tried to clear her throat, furious at herself for blushing. "Well, you are a busy person."

Gilbert had stepped in close then, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I'm doing something about that. Are you free this Saturday afternoon?"

His hand came out to steady her when her walking stick slipped in shock. "Oh- I- I believe so, yes. Why so formal?"

He shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets. "Well, the normal way of doing things seems to end up with us being interrupted constantly- so I thought I'd try something different. I'm taking a leaf from our teaching days."

Anne smiled faintly. "In those days we used to head for the woods, Gil."

To her utter shock, he suddenly leaned down to press warm lips to her cheek before turning away. His voice was light. "Good, you remembered. Now you'll know how to dress. I'm coming for you at two."


	28. Chapter 28

**For everyone who has been with me on this journey, for the reviews, trust and time and endless encouragement from you all-**

 **This one is for you.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

The spring afternoon was clear and warm when Gilbert came for Anne, his boyish smile in evidence on his lean face. Only the night before he had called in to make sure that their plans were still in place, and she had badgered him to find out where they were going- much like her sixteen-year-old self had once done. Susan was left shaking her head in bewilderment at the pair, listening to the way they teased and tormented each other. Like a pair of children, they were, rather than the responsible doctor and school teacher that the rest of the town saw.

Susan then had watched a dreamy Anne float off toward her bedroom with a bemused look. She's suspected something of this nature months ago- and yet nothing had come of it before. Still, there was a certain look in the young doctor's eyes now... She waved the pair off dubiously and turned back to her kitchen with a shake of her grey head at the peculiarities of the younger generation.

Outside, Gilbert led Anne down the garden path and to the gate, where Hippocrates stood waiting patiently beside a large wooden crate. Anne froze and turned back to him, her eyes enormous.

"Gil, I can't do that-"

He rolled his eyes. "You can _so_ , Carrots. I still can't believe you wouldn't let me teach you to ride back home. It's much too far for you to walk, and I'm not letting you miss this."

Anne's mouth was dry. "Gilbert, he's _huge_ -"

He gave her an indulgent look. "Come on, step up here now."

Anne glared at him crossly. "Excuse me, _Doctor_ , you are always telling me to be careful, that I need to respect my own limits!"

Gilbert's hands were on his hips, he bent down to her eye level. "And I stand by that, Miss Shirley. If I'm not with you I can't keep you safe. But our limits together are a very different thing."

He held out his hand to help her onto the crate, laughing at her caustic comments as she held her blue skirts out of the way. "Did you actually bring this all the way here?" she asked, in disbelief.

"No, it's yours- it was around the side of the house. Come on now, hold onto the fence and I'll get up there first. Let me show you how easy it is." He swung himself up into the saddle and steadied himself with the stirrups. "I'll lift you up here, I just need you to help me a bit. Do you trust me?"

Anne shook her head, but he could see the twinkle in her eye. "No, not even a little. I think you're trying to make me an invalid." She drew in a deep breath, her eyes unsure. "What do I do?"

Gilbert smiled. While the horse stood still, he instructed her to put a foot in the stirrup and wrapped a strong arm around her waist. Anne caught her breath as she pushed up and found herself lifted easily onto the saddle before him, and her hands clutched at his coat in panic. He chuckled as she buried her face in his shirt, and he shifted his body to anchor himself as he held her. "You _can_ open your eyes, Anne." Slowly she did so, her teeth chattering. She began to relax once she felt herself held securely, and looked up at the man holding her with enormous eyes. "See? Not so hard. Now, there's a part of the saddle that you can hook your right knee over, that will give you some steadiness."

Anne let out a breath and tried to do as he instructed. "We're so high up."

"And I've got you. If you go over, I go too."

Anne snorted. "That isn't a comfort under the circumstances." She looked up at him then, a slight flush on her cheeks. "You aren't worried about the gossip, are you? The town's doctor and teacher running away on a horse for the afternoon?"

He noticed that one of her hands still clung to the fabric of his shirt and grinned. "We're on the edge of town and going further out, so no one will ever know. Look, the Glen was going to find out how improper we were at some point, weren't they? We've done well to fool them this far."

This made her chuckle. "I suppose so. You won't let him run, will you?"

Gilbert shifted her on the saddle to secure her, his heart melting at the slight tremble he felt in her body. Again he marveled at how brave she was, at the spirit that he saw rising in her once more. It was this Anne he had yearned to see again- the sparkling woman he had fallen in love with so long ago. How had he survived so many years without her?

Slowly they began to move, and as Hippocrates walked down the wooded pathways beyond the schoolhouse Anne began to relax, even to point out the things she could see in the landscape. Together they rode through parts of the Hollow that she had never seen before, and Gilbert smiled at the excitement in her voice as she chattered. She stiffened slightly as the horse walked down into a little valley, but Gilbert's protective hand was on her waist and the murmur of his voice in her ear steadied her. Her cheeks flushed at his closeness, and for a moment she wished that they had no destination- that they could travel on and on together, his hands on her, her back against his firm chest. A slight pang tore through her, and her head lowered, as she tried to think clearly. It was too easy now, far too easy to keep dreaming.

Gilbert pulled the horse to a stop at a line of trees, and with a steadying word he put the reins in Anne's hand to steady her and swung off the horse, causing Anne to give a gasp of shock when his body moved from hers.

" _You're leaving me up here_?"

Gilbert chuckled, his hand on the harness. " _No_ , you goose, I'm getting down so that I can get _you_ down."

After some cautious moments, Anne found herself in his arms, and safely on the ground. The two of them pushed away from each other, both hearts pounding a little harder, but commenting carefully on the trees, the scenery, and the sunshine. Gilbert watched her longingly before moving toward her again. He'd quite accidentally found this place earlier in the year, and for weeks he had wondered how he could possibly get Anne here. Now, he took her hand. This was a moment that she needed, and he wanted to be close to her while she discovered it.

He pushed through the branches to the little emerald hollow he had found. In the centre of the wood was a grove now completely carpeted with sweet mayflowers. Sunshine glinted off a pool in one corner, and he turned to watch her take in the scene, her mouth open in surprise. She let go of him to move carefully down the slope, turning to look at the mass of flowers that bloomed on all sides, and he thought he saw tears in her grey eyes. He watched her bend down to pluck the soft, pink flowers from the ground and smiled in pure happiness.

When Anne turned to face him her red hair shone in the sunlight, and her eyes were bright. "Gilbert, how do you find these places? I've never seen so many mayflowers- I've never been anywhere so wonderful. And to smell the springtime air, oh, it's glorious!"

Gilbert's look was loving, and he moved to join her. However, as he stepped over a small log he barely had time to react when he trod on a loose stone and fell forward into the mayflowers with a surprised yell.

Anne gave a shriek, and moved toward him, only to stop at his unrestrained laughter on the ground. She began to laugh too, and within a foot of him fell to her knees, her hands reaching out to tug on his arm fruitlessly. The dead weight of a laughing Gilbert was nothing she could manage on her own, and when he eventually rolled over onto his back, he sighed, wiping his eyes.

"I don't know how you handle doing that so often, Anne. That was just maddening-"

Anne giggled, a sound he had not heard for so long now. "It's simple, silly. I just keep falling."

Her face was so close to his own then, and without thought, Gilbert's hand came up to caress her pointed chin. He felt a jolt move through him at the tender look in her eyes, and suddenly the world seemed to stop moving, as Anne impulsively bent to press her soft lips to his own. For Gilbert, every other sense was blocked by her kiss- it was only the two of them in a world born anew. And then suddenly, the moment was broken.

He caught his breath when she sat up in shock, her cheeks pale and enormous grey eyes filling with terror. He watched her move and reached out to grab her hand in fear.

"Anne, honey, please, _please_ don't run from me-"

His heart thudded in his chest as he watched her shake her head slightly. "I- I won't."

He pulled himself upright, and the two of them sat facing each other in silence. He saw her mouth move, her attempt to speak.

"I'm sorry," Anne stuttered.

Gilbert whitened, his heart shattering. "You're _sorry_?"

"No- _no_ \- I- I don't mean that- I meant that I shouldn't have done it without-" she said feverishly, and he started breathing again. "I- I needed to tell you something. I should have told you before- but I couldn't. Gil, I need you to know something-" her brow tightened as she faltered on her words, unwilling to speak the thing she had locked so very far away.

Gilbert's voice was gentle, and his eyes held hers steadily. "Alright. Whatever it is, Anne, just tell me now."

Anne clenched her hands and tried to calm her breathing, forcing herself to speak now. "Gil, there was a reason that I left Avonlea when- when you were ill," she said faintly.

Gilbert's breath caught, and he looked at her in shock. "What do you mean? You said that Josie told you-"

"She did. But there was- something else- something that I couldn't tell you before, Gil." She swallowed, her eyes burning, and she spoke drearily. "I was there at your house."

Whatever he had expected, it was not this. "When?" was all he could ask.

Anne licked suddenly dry lips. "When you were still very sick," she said softly. "Gil, after I found out, for three days and three nights it tortured me. I could only picture you there in your bed, and not knowing how I- and remembering me refusing you at convocation." Gilbert's eyes were wide, and he hung on every word that she spoke. "When we had no word from anyone in that time, I- I went to your house. Your mother said that she didn't know if I should see you- that you were not doing well. Eventually, she asked me to come in." Anne's breath caught, as the words began to spill out. "She said she would ask you whether you wanted to see me or not. She led me up the stairs to your bedroom, and told me to wait on the landing outside." Her tears began to fall, and a frozen Gilbert clutched at her hand. "I couldn't see you- but when she had gone in there, I heard her- she asked you-" at this, a sob broke from her mouth tearing Gilbert's heart in two. "And you- you were so upset- you said _no, no, please, not her_ \- it was _you_ , Gil; it was your voice, and you refused me like I refused you, and I _deserved_ it-"

Gilbert pulled his hand from hers, his hands coming up to hold her face close to his own frantic one. "No, Anne, you didn't _,_ " he choked.

"Then I heard you tell me to leave- you said that you would have been better off without me-" Her voice trembled as she spoke the words that had haunted her for almost seven years. "And then you called me- you called me _unfaithful_."

At this, he dropped his hands in shock, as he watched her begin to cry.

"No, I couldn't have- I _wouldn't_ -" The panic seemed to rise in him as the image of the bedroom he had laid in so ill flooded his senses. "No, _never_ , Anne; I would never in my right mind say that-" and suddenly the truth hit him with the force of a tidal wave, and with a cry of grief and fury he hit the ground with his fist. After a moment he opened pain-filled eyes and pulled a sobbing Anne into his arms. "I'm sorry, Anne, I'm so sorry-" he took her hands from her face gently, his voice tortured. "I was delirious, sweetheart. Typhoid is an evil, filthy disease- you see things that aren't real and the pain never, never stops-" his voice broke on those words. "Anne, I didn't know what I was saying."

She looked up at him, her breath uneven. He seemed to see a flicker of something in her eyes and waited for her to respond.

"But I thought you meant it- your _mother_ thought-"

"You can't always tell when it's over," he said softly. "The fever can relapse, and suddenly the dreams are back." He cradled her face in his hands close to his own. "It wasn't your fault. I don't know what I was talking about, but it wasn't you. The first thing I thought about when I woke up was you. Anne, why, _why_ didn't you tell me this sooner?" he asked, his voice low.

She swallowed then, her eyes falling. "Because I was afraid, Gil."

He blanched at her words. "Of- of _me_?

"No. Because it hurt me so much." Anne pulled away from him slightly, her eyes pleading. "I thought it real, I thought you were aware and were just trying to leave it in the past. I only learned from your mother that you didn't even know that it had happened. Even _she_ thought you really felt that way."

Gilbert's eyes were glassy. "When she went to see you months ago?" At Anne's nod, a flash came to his hazel eyes. "Then why didn't she tell me herself?"

Anne's voice faltered. "She thought that it needed to come from me. She knew that I wouldn't have realised either- but I was still afraid that you had meant what you said- that it was true, even if you weren't aware of it. And then I couldn't make myself tell you."

Gilbert drew in a shaking breath. "And the way that I met you after you moved here- I confirmed everything, didn't I?" Her silence was confirmation enough, and stricken, he bowed his head against his knees.

Anne flinched at the pain she saw on his face. She was willing to do anything to make it leave, but something stopped her. Gilbert was right- they needed to face this. She spoke haltingly then. "Gil, you know people often thought badly of me. When Matthew and Marilla, and Diana loved me, I could face anyone else with my head held high. And when you and I became friends- I could never have told you this, but I so prized your esteem. It meant something to have you value me as a friend." Gilbert took her hand in his, hating the heartbreak in her eyes. "But when I had behaved so terribly to you, terribly to Roy- I couldn't help but see the justice of your words. You were _always_ just. But to hear you say that nearly destroyed me. I had to learn to block it out to keep functioning." She drew in a shaking breath and tried to smile. "I only ever told Diana."

" _She_ knew?" At her nod, he gave a wry chuckle. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Yes. And she knew something else too." She wiped her eyes and hesitated. "Gil, I went there to tell you something that day."

Gilbert's mouth was dry. "You did?"

Anne sighed in surrender as the weight of the secret she had lived with fell. Whatever would happen now, he would know the truth.

"Gilbert, I came to tell you that I loved you," she whispered. "I always did. Only I didn't realise- I didn't know. But when Marilla told me that you might die, I knew that I didn't want to keep living if it was without you."

Gilbert's eyes showed the grief in them. "Anne, _no_ -"

She drew in a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes. "And in the same moment that I learned you would live, Josie told me that Christine was coming to be with you. It was cowardly- but I couldn't stay. And so I left. I made my way to Summerside- I drifted for weeks- until eventually, I began to see that I couldn't just give up living- but in order to live I had to let you go. And it was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do."

Gilbert's hand was on her back, his forehead resting against hers. "And then I went to see you and you were gone." He sat back then, revolving everything in his mind. "Anne, what would have happened?" he asked softly.

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

His smile was gentle, as he cupped her cheek. "It's the game you used to make me play. Use that imagination of yours, and tell me what should have happened."

She gave a little laugh that was like a sob. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Anne pulled back to look at him, his loving hazel eyes fixed on her own, and she flushed. "I would have come into your bedroom-"

His hazel eyes twinkled. "-And I would have been completely fine with that, and would hope that my mother would leave us alone for a bit."

She gave a shaky laugh. "I would have sat beside you and tried not to cry."

Gilbert's hand reached for hers then. "And I wouldn't have cared if you _did_. I would have looked horrible, and sounded even worse-"

"And _I_ wouldn't have cared." She looked down at the fingers laced through her own and swallowed. "And I would have told you that I loved you, and that I always had."

Gilbert closed his eyes, a deep sigh of relief leaving him at her words. Anne was silent for a time, before pulling away from him gently. "Gilbert, you need to know how thankful I am to have you in my life again. I don't know how I lived without you, to be honest." She swallowed and met suddenly anxious eyes. "I know that knowing what happened doesn't change the past- it doesn't change the fact that I hurt you terribly. I care for you so dearly- and I want you to be happy. I didn't tell you because I expected you to feel the same way about me now. I told you this because there was a boy back then who deserved to know how loved he was."

Anne watched the way he blinked a tear back and froze when he unexpectedly spoke.

"No."

Anne's voice was frightened then. "Gilbert?"

He turned to face her, his gaze intense. " _No_. We are not going to push this into the past because we're afraid of being hurt. We're not leaving here until we understand each other fully." He knelt before her then, pulling her hands back into his own. "Anne, this isn't about how we felt back then, as deeply as we cared about each other; it's about how we feel right _now_. And you had _better_ have some expectations about my feelings. You know me better than anyone- so you should know that about me too." He gave her time to process this, and then bent to look into her teary eyes. "Anne? Tell me what happens now."

She drew in a shaking breath and looked up at him in wonder. "I- I tell you that I love you."

A smile broke across Gilbert's face, and he bent his nose to touch hers. "And?"

"And- and then I suppose you would tell me if you loved _me_ ," she murmured, her cheeks scarlet.

He began to laugh. "Anne, there's no _if_ ," he said tenderly, his thumb stroking her soft cheek. "I never stopped. I knew that when you'd only been here a few weeks. I fought it like a tiger- but it just didn't work."

To his delight, she pulled away with a scowl. "Oh! Well, that's just _charming_ -"

Gilbert raised one eyebrow at her. "And didn't you try to get over me?"

She rested her forehead against his cheek with a chuckle."Perhaps once or twice. I'm afraid it was pointless."

He smiled then, slipping his arms around her to pull her close. He studied the grey-green eyes that had captivated him so long ago, and his hand moved into her soft red curls. With his heart pounding with anticipation and love, he spoke.

"I love you, Anne Shirley," Gilbert whispered, his lips mere inches from her own. "I always have. Marry me?"

Without a pause, Anne slipped her arms around his neck, kissing his precious lips with a heart overflowing. With Gilbert's arms wrapped tightly around her, Anne felt a joy that she had only dreamed of- the feeling of coming home. To her surprise, after only a minute of rapturous kissing, he pulled away, his breathing fast, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes. "I'm afraid I am going to need a proper answer, sweetheart; that _was_ an official marriage proposal, you know-"

"Yes, of _course_ yes, Gil," Anne cried then half in laughter, half in tears.

The happiness that her answer gave him rendered him almost incoherent, and he dusted her cheeks and temples with kisses before claiming her lips in a way that made Anne's dreams pale into insignificance.

After several long, passion-filled minutes, Anne pulled away from him to catch her breath and simply study his face. Gilbert smiled at her thoughtful look. "What is it?"

She ran her fingers over his jaw and shook her head, smiling. "Nothing- I'm just- remembering you."

He caught her hand in his own, pulling her pink fingertips up to kiss them one by one, making her eyes go wide at the intimacy of the action. "Good remembering?" he murmured, and she chuckled, her cheeks pink.

"No, _now_. I'm remembering _now_."

He laughed then, a bright sound that made her smile. "Anne-girl, only you could say such a thing. Just how can you remember something that is currently happening?"

She smiled, and he was close enough to see the seven tiny freckles on her nose that he adored, and he bent down to press a kiss on it. "It's simple, Gilbert. This is the first time I will remember this precious moment- something that I will remember all of my life."

He grinned and kissed her again, before flopping down with a deep sigh against the steep slope they were sitting on. Anne slipped down to snuggle into his side, and he turned his head to kiss her hair as she rested against his shoulder. Gilbert squinted in the afternoon sunlight, a satisfied smile on his face. "Eighteen years, Anne. I pulled a girl's hair _eighteen years_ ago- and she's only _just_ said that she'll marry me. I think I've earned a rest after that effort."

"Well, for a shorter wait, perhaps you should have rethought your opening gambit," Anne said nonchalantly, before breaking into laughter at Gilbert's mock-scowl.

Gilbert watched her beautiful face look around the glade in delight. "Did you plan all of this, Gilbert? You couldn't have chosen a more fairytale-like setting for a proposal."

Anne felt his chest move against her cheek with a rumble of laughter. "I always wanted to bring you here- after all, you and I have a history with mayflowers that I wanted to change. Although to be honest, I think I was going to do it anywhere I could get you alone, Anne-girl. I wasn't going to wait any longer than you wanted me to. We used to have more time- I don't know why everyone in town seems to suddenly need the doctor right now. Apart from the influenza outbreak, it was a fairly easy winter. And then just when I wanted to see you more it all broke loose-"

Anne scowled. "I know. I even contemplated calling you when I tripped over at school yesterday."

Her pillow was then rudely dislodged when he sat up to look at her in indignation. "Anne, you could have told me that you got hurt last night! What did I tell you about calling me when you had an incident?"

She leaned up on her elbows with a wicked smile, her hair falling out of its pins, and a flower caught in her red locks. Gilbert swallowed, his body heating at the sight of her next to him. "Because I didn't actually get hurt, Gil. I was fine. Well- I scraped an elbow. And it isn't the time for me to be a prima donna with you- especially when you have so many other cases right now," she trailed off, with a sigh.

Gilbert bent down to kiss her tenderly. "You're my priority, Anne. You know that."

She smiled. "I admit that I _did_ get the sense that I was one of your favourite patients- do you stay with anyone else hours after an examination is done?"

He flushed then, stretching back out on the warm ground beside her. "No. Nor do I come up with excuses to stay longer, or end up confiding in them about other patients. I was kicking myself afterward for telling you about Owen and Leslie- it wasn't professional of me."

Anne turned to look at him, her face gentle. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Gil. Everyone needs to confide in someone. You are an exceptional physician- and a very good man."

He smiled, brushing her hair back. "Doctors usually only confide in their wives. I've never done it with anyone but another doctor- but I couldn't seem to help doing it with you." His eyes were on the far trees when he added slowly- "I suppose that should have been my first clue. I always thought of you like that."

Anne's hand came up to rest on his heart, her look confident and gentle. "That always happened with us, Gilbert. I told you almost everything as well- and I know that it's because I'm in _here_. As you are in _my_ heart."

Gilbert leant over her, his expression yearning and sweet. "You're going to be my wife, Anne," he said softly. "Do you know how long I have waited to be able to say that?"

Anne pulled him down to her and kissed him, her grey eyes showing him all the love and confidence she had in him. "I do, Gil. _You_ are the one who has my heart- and _you_ are where my heart belongs."

* * *

Together they stayed in the valley, surrounded by sweet smelling flowers and sunshine, held securely in each other's arms. Talking about everything and nothing, their dreams and plans taking gradual shape together. Eventually, Gilbert looked around at the dusk falling and helped Anne to her feet, bending to pick her up in his arms to walk up the slope. The horse was grazing patiently nearby, and with some help from a fallen log Gilbert had Anne once again on the horse and the two of them rode in contented silence back to her house. As Anne was gently helped down, she looked in surprise at the fence, where her walking stick hung innocently.

"Gil, I didn't take it with me-" Anne said, in shock, and then began to laugh. "My doctor will be simply furious."

He gave her an amused grin. "Anne, you took your _doctor_ with you. That's much better than a stick." Together they walked up to the front door of Rosewood Cottage, where the daffodils and freesias bloomed in the tangled cottage garden, and the scent of Susan's newly planted roses hovered in the air. On the doorstep, Gilbert pulled Anne close to him. "Are we going to talk to Susan tonight?"

Anne laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Of course, darling. I do wonder just how surprised she will be, though."

As a matter of fact, the surprise lay only in the speed with which the couple reached their very natural conclusion. At that moment Susan Baker opened the front door holding a rug in her hands to shake, just in time to see the good doctor bend down to kiss her mistress tenderly. When the couple turned to see her stunned face, Anne flushed and gave her a smile as she took Gilbert's hand.

"Susan, dear, Doctor Blythe will be staying for dinner with us." Anne looked up at her fiance with a light in her eyes and smiled. "And later on, we have a story that we need to tell you."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Susan sat on the sofa that night, listening to the story that she had pieced together over the last six months. The young couple sitting before her spoke together, laughing and completing each other's sentences- and it was evident that they were being held on the ground by very little. Susan looked in wonder at the sparkle in Anne's eyes, the loving way she would tease Gilbert. Susan had never seen the young doctor so carefree before- he wore a happiness that was almost blinding in its intensity.

When Anne and Gilbert's tale was done, with characteristic briskness Susan proceeded to ask when and where the wedding would be.

Anne looked at Gilbert, and he smiled. "Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but we can do it another time, perhaps," he said lightly. "It's early days yet."

"You may as well discuss it tonight, doctor dear," Susan said comfortably. "I'll go and get some tea for you both."

Anne put out her hand to touch Susan's arm, and smiled.

"Stay for a moment, Susan. We'd like to ask you something before you go. You have been my right hand since I came to the Glen. I couldn't have done any of this without you. We would like to know if you would continue to keep house for us when we are married," Anne said simply.

Susan's face was a sight to behold. It had been the one sore spot in seeing Anne so happily settled, fearing she would need to part from the mistress she adored. "You don't wish to use your housekeeper, doctor?"

Gilbert grinned. "Mrs Leary complains about looking after _me_ \- and I'm barely at home at times. She isn't family, Susan- and you've been that to Anne, something I am very grateful for. I do make things more complicated, you should know that. I'm not tidy- I never know when I'm going to have to miss a meal- and I can be called on at any hour of the day or night."

Susan's look was complacent. "I think I can work with that, doctor. And a man should be able to come home to his own house and be made welcome. It will be real good to have some more work to do, in fact- I've always fancied a full house."

Gilbert's smile was huge as he took in his fiancée's sparkling eyes. "So have I."

Susan stood up then, her nod firm. "Well then, I accept. Anne, I trust you will keep me informed."

"We will." The two of them watched her flee the room quickly, and Anne smiled. "She doesn't want us to see her becoming emotional."

Gilbert let out a sigh, his look complacent. "Well, I won't object to some time alone, Anne-girl."

Anne snuggled in to his side. For a time the two were content to be silent, and Gilbert looked into the fireplace thinking long thoughts. When at last he turned to her, she smiled and caressed his cheek, bringing her face close to his own. Despite the embraces they had shared that afternoon, there was a shyness on Anne's face now that melted his heart as she pressed her lips to his softly in the quiet room.

Gilbert stroked her soft cheek, smiling. "What was that for?"

Anne placed her red head against his shoulder, her arms around him tightly. "Because I've dreamed of doing that for so long now. We've spent eight years apart- and I'm not willing to wait any longer."

He chuckled, bending to kiss her again. "You know, I was thinking- we would probably have been married for three and a half years by now."

At this Anne choked in surprise. "That's rather specific-"

"Come on, think about it. If you'd said yes back then, or even if we'd sorted things out after the typhoid, I still had three years of medical school to go."

Anne sighed. "I suppose so."

"But now…" he said, drawing the word out, while tucking her close to him on the lounge- "Now, we don't have to wait."

His hazel eyes held hers as he looked for any hesitancy, but found none. He had only ever dreamed about seeing that look in her grey eyes, and cupped her face with his hands as he kissed her slowly and passionately in the fire-lit room now. The feel of her lips moving with his- the way she pressed herself so close to him showing him just how wanted he was. His heart was thundering in his chest, and he paused then, opening his eyes to see her chest lifting with a quick breath, and grinned. Anne's cheeks were pink, and he kissed the hand that came up to rest on his chest.

"Not waiting sounds wonderful," she said, in a breathless voice that made him laugh in sheer joy. He sobered then, taking her hand in his.

"So we have some decisions to make."

Anne smiled at him. "We do."

Gilbert sat back contentedly with her in his arms. "I suppose you won't be surprised to know I've been thinking about this for months."

Anne chuckled. "Well, _one_ of us should have- I was too afraid to hope that you still cared."

Gilbert snorted, his hand gently brushing a loose curl away from her cheek. "Look, before I even knew that the feelings I had for you were mutual, I was trying to work it all out in my mind."

Anne giggled, a sound that made a goofy grin cover his face. "That sounds very clinical, Gilbert."

He grinned cheekily. "Oh, it was. Very factual. But then- my dreams of you weren't quite so tame."

To his delight he felt her snuggle in to his side further, smiling at the warmth of her cheek against his throat.

"You think of me like that?" she whispered after a minute, and he turned to glance at her in shock.

"Of course I do, Anne- why would that surprise you?"

Anne hedged, her cheeks hot. She gestured to her stick awkwardly.

"I suppose I wondered. I've been out of your world for so long, Gil, I wouldn't have expected-"

Gilbert held their clasped hands close to his chest, and grinned. "The trouble has been trying to _not_ think of you like that all the time- especially after you came here. I always admired you; I was admiring you when you broke your slate over my head." He sighed, laying his head back against the sofa. "I fell in love with you when I was- oh, fifteen or so. When Miss Stacey began teaching us I started to notice it," he said, flushing. "You were growing up right before me, Anne; you were so passionate, and bright and intelligent- and then you would put your nose in the air and snub me-"

"Oh, that's _very_ flattering," Anne muttered, with a grin.

"-and I kept thinking that if I grabbed you and kissed you, you wouldn't be able to ignore me-"

She broke into a laugh. "I never saw that, Gil. After I treated you so terribly- and yes, even I knew I wasn't being fair- you can hardly blame me for thinking that you wouldn't notice me that way."

Gilbert's hand came up to rub the back of his head sheepishly. "I was doing everything I could to make sure you didn't notice, actually. It was a bit inconvenient at times."

His look was embarrassed, and Anne smiled, hiding her face from him. "I do understand." Gilbert gave her an odd look, and she smiled self-consciously. "Five years of teaching high school boys in a co-educational facility was eye-opening. I had a lot of respect for the things that boys go through after that."

He chuckled, then. "When you came here I thought I was beyond all of that turmoil- and then suddenly I saw you, and all my dreams were filled with you again."

Anne looked at him in wonder. "Really, Gil?"

He laughed then. "Like you wouldn't believe. It was anything but proper."

"If I'm honest, neither were mine."

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up, and he met Anne's twinkling look. " _Really_?"

"Well, if you won't tell me yours, I am hardly likely to tell you _mine_ ," Anne countered, an angelic look on her face.

Gilbert rubbed a hand over his face with a grin. "Anne-girl, I don't think I should right now. Soon, though, I'll tell you everything. _How_ soon?"

Anne smiled. "Until we marry? I would say tomorrow if it weren't for the fact that those who love us would be less than thrilled at the idea of us eloping."

Gilbert gave a shudder. "My parents- not to mention Diana- would kill me. No, we need the full wedding- everyone has certainly waited long enough for it."

Anne's look was hesitant then. "Do you think that your parents will be happy for us?"

Gilbert snorted. "Well, my mother will cry," he said to Anne conversationally. "No, not the way you think, darling- she will cry _on_ you. Actually, on both of us. There won't be enough handkerchiefs to dry the mess."

Anne gave a choked laugh. "Will she be so very distraught?"

He gave her a serious glance then, one that made her eyes soften. "Quite the opposite. Anne, you probably don't realise this- but my mother does. _You_ brought me home again." Anne looked up at him in disbelief, and he sighed. "She tried to tell me to talk to you back in February. I only wish I had- we could have had these months together then. She knew what I was running from- and she knew how much I'd hurt you."

Anne's voice was subdued, and she shook her head. "And how much I'd hurt you."

Gilbert opened her palm, and laced his fingers through hers- studying the hands that he had always hoped would one day reach for him. He continued soberly. "I've realised how awful I've been over the years to my parents- who sacrificed everything for a dream of mine that they never got to take part in. You know that I didn't go home much. But even when they would come to me, I wouldn't talk to them openly- I was bitter, and morbid and selfish."

Anne studied his face thoughtfully. "No, I don't think you could have been, Gil."

"Anne, you don't know what I was like," he said flatly. "I wasn't there for them. I was so busy wallowing that I didn't-"

She pulled herself up to kiss him tenderly. When she moved away, he saw the tears in her eyes. "I know. I was like that too. But I _know_ you, Gilbert Blythe- and I think you have been beating yourself up for those mistakes for a long time now. It's over. We will be there for them," Anne stated firmly.

He smiled, oddly emotional at her last words. "You said _we_."

She rested against the crook of his neck with a sigh. "Well, unless you have a different definition of marriage that I do, I _meant_ 'we'."

He exhaled in contentment. "My parents will be over the moon, sweetheart, they love you- they always did. Do you know what my mother said after the slate incident?"

Anne looked at him curiously. "No, you never told me."

"For a reason," he said drolly. "She said to my father 'now, that's more like it,'"

Anne's eyebrows flew up. "She wanted a strange orphan to hit her only son?"

Gilbert's look was cheerful. "She wanted him taken down a peg, yes. We stayed in New Brunswick with some of her family on the way home from Alberta- and I may have been a bit of a pill to my cousins. And they were so nice to me too- they knew what we'd been through with Dad, and just took it. Mother was mortified- she told me she thought I was more grown up than that. You stopped that, Anne-girl. You didn't put up with any disrespect, and as upset as Dad was, he was impressed with you. Even before he knew that you belonged to Marilla."

When Susan bustled into the room with the tray, her look was complacent. "There you both are, and I added some of the lemon tarts you made this morning, Anne. White tea with one sugar, doctor? I suppose there's quite a lot to be discussed, now that you've decided things. Have you figured out where the wedding will be? Are you planning on traveling to your home town for it?"

Anne looked at Gilbert with a conscious smile. "Oh- we haven't actually talked about it yet, Susan."

"Just what _have_ you been talking about all this time?"

Gilbert cleared his throat, attempting to remain sober. "Er- logistics, Susan. We will try and get some answers for you soon, though."

Susan straightened up, her eyes narrowed. "Do try and make some decisions this evening, won't you? We have quite a lot of work to do if we want to get you married before the fall cleaning is to be done."

She left the room, and Anne began to laugh. "And she would manage it, too."

"If it speeds up our wedding, I won't complain," Gilbert commented with a shrug. He turned to her then, his smile wide. "Shall I tell you some of the things I've been thinking?"

Anne put her feet onto the sofa beside her, resting against his side, perfectly content to simply be with him. "Of course."

Gilbert slipped his arm around her waist, his face turning into her copper curls. "Well, I was thinking that we need a house."

"We have _two_ , Gil."

Gilbert chuckled. "Yours is part of your contract, sweetheart- something else we will need to discuss soon. And mine is not one I would choose to raise a family in- and certainly not one I want you struggling with." Anne gave him a bewildered look, and he rolled his eyes. "It's cold, it's dreary, and has no imagination about it at all. Now, you can't live in a place like that. I've been thinking that I want to buy a house for us."

" _Our home_ , Gil," Anne said softly, and chuckled. "Not five hours ago, I should have considered it impossible."

Gilbert raised one eyebrow, aggrieved. "I thought I was being unmistakable with my intentions, Anne-girl. I don't ride off into the woods with just anyone on my horse, you know. You really didn't guess?"

Anne chuckled, her face expressive. "In retrospect, perhaps, Gilbert. I was so determined not to read into anything- I felt grateful to be in your world, and wasn't about disturb what we had to ask for anything else."

He pressed his lips to her smooth forehead, and sighed. "You never left my world, Anne. You showed me that- and you showed me just how stuck in the past I was. I tried so hard to remain impartial, to not get swept away in what had been- but it was you. Beautiful, intelligent and fiery _you_." He smiled at the way she snuggled in to his side, and turned at her query.

"Should I have told you on the shore that day, Gil?" Anne asked. "Should I have told you everything then?"

Gilbert stretched his legs out comfortably and smiled. "It was only two weeks ago, Anne. I think I needed the extra time to adjust, if I'm being honest- I'd been running hard from how I felt for so long." His look was distant, and he was silent for a time. "We've never talked about my first proposal, have we?" At Anne's worried look, Gilbert shook his head. "It's all right. It's part of our story- but I've been kicking myself for how stupid I was back then."

She sat up then indignantly. "You were _not_! That is terribly insulting-"

Gilbert disarmed her and took her hands in his earnestly. "Anne, honestly, were you ready for me then?" Her face fell, and after a moment she shook her head. "You were trying to tell me that, Anne, but _I wasn't listening_. Besides the fact that I had five years of school ahead of me- assuming I could afford to go to medical school. Was I going to ask you to wait for that long? How was I planning to support you if we decided not to wait? What did _you_ want?" At the look of shock on her face, Gilbert continued gently. "That's right. I didn't even know that. I didn't have a clue. The fact is that I was blinded by desire, I was blinded by terror- I was so afraid to lose you, that I pushed on, regardless of what could happen to us."

"But if I'd known-"

"But you _didn't_. You're not to blame for that, Anne. I should have heard you better. And after what you told me that day on the shore- that all those years ago you were actually _jealous_ of Christine-" he said wonderingly.

Anne frowned. "Who, to be fair, was stunning, and you seemed very taken by her." Anne sat up then, indignantly. "Gil, was she really engaged the whole time she was with you?"

He shrugged uneasily. "I knew that from Ronald's correspondence, long before I even met her. She told me that everyone knew."

Anne quirked one auburn eyebrow. "Gilbert, if Philippa Gordon didn't know, _no one_ knew. She knew every bit of gossip that floated around Redmond, most of the time before it even happened."

"Except the fact that I was 'supposed to' be with Christine," Gilbert shot back. "Anne, Phil and I had classes together- she could have asked me for the truth at any time. We were friends, once."

Anne moved close to his beloved face, unafraid of his momentary ire- which she promptly dissolved with a well-aimed kiss on his chin. "She was as convinced as I was, Gil- and you need to let go of that. She and her husband, the Reverend Jonas will be attending our wedding, sir."

"I think I met him once or twice- he seemed like a nice enough fellow."

Anne nodded, smiling. "You should have seen their wedding; it was fit for royalty- and Phil hated every moment of it. She wanted something simpler, I believe."

Gilbert pulled her close, smiling. "Simple sounds perfect, I think. Well, I will look forward to seeing her then. And contrary to all gossip, I was never interested in Christine like that- to be honest, between work for the Cooper and trying to avoid seeing you with Roy, I didn't see her all that often in our last year."

"I'm sorry," Anne whispered, holding Gilbert tightly.

"Don't be. We must have needed to go through that, somehow." He gave a sigh, and kissed her cheek. "I'm only glad that we have a _now_."

Anne was silent for a time, her head resting against his shoulder. When he felt her yawn, Gilbert started guiltily. "Anne, I'm sorry- it's been a big day. I should let you get some rest."

Anne sat up quickly, her hand grasping his wistfully. "No, please don't go, Gil. It's the first day of our happiness- I want it to last just a little longer."

Gilbert smiled. "Sweetheart, my happiness began that day at the shore, when I started to realise that you cared." At her unexpected laughter, Gilbert turned to Anne in amusement. "Is there something wrong with that assessment?"

"It's the scope of the understatement, that's all, Gilbert. I wanted to tell you then- I wanted to tell you as soon as I first saw you."

He stared back at her, his look suddenly anxious. "At Andrew's?"

Anne raised her hand to cup his cheek tenderly and nodded. "I only needed to see your face to realise that there would be no getting over you," she said honestly. "Even when you were angry, even when it looked like you were unforgiving, I was going to love you anyway."

"I'll never forgive myself for what I said to you," Gilbert muttered, pulling away a little.

Anne sighed. "No. You need to, Gil." He looked up in confusion, and her voice was firm. "We can torture ourselves forever like this- but why?" she asked him. "Nothing will remove the last eight years. We were wrong- we were stubborn, and proud and misinformed and hurt and unforgiving- but that isn't now. We have a lifetime together to make up for every day we spent apart. Your mother was right- forgiving each other wasn't the problem- it was _ourselves_ that we couldn't forgive."

When she kissed his cheek softly, he looked into eyes that glowed with tenderness and smiled. "I know." He chuckled then. "You know, all I needed to know was that you felt something for me," he said slowly. "That's all I was waiting for. I wanted to know what happened, yes, it was important for us to move on- but I just needed to know that you cared."

Anne turned to him then, her face close to his own. "I _did_. I knew that I loved you when you were ill- and nothing ever changed that."

Gilbert spoke after a short silence. "Anne, something really bothered me, this afternoon," he said bluntly. "You said that when you realised it- that you didn't want to live if I wasn't going to." He saw her sigh, and swallowed. "It almost sounded like you were- like you were actually thinking about-" he stumbled over unwelcome thoughts, and looked back at her pleading. "You were _never_ like that, Anne- not when Matthew died, you never gave up. I know that you felt things strongly, but it was so unlike you to react that way, and I didn't know if you were exaggerating, or if you really felt like that—"

Anne rested her cheek against his shoulder, her hand touching his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart. After a time she answered him quietly. "No, Gil. I wasn't exaggerating." When he pulled away in pain, she met his eyes clearly. "I had no warning, Gil. None at all. When I came home from Echo lodge and learned that you were dying, I understood in a single moment what it would mean to me if you did. That I loved you. I'd been blind, and so very foolish. There was a storm, that night, did you know that?"

He gave a faint smile as she brushed the hair back from his forehead, and shook his head.

"It raged all night- and so did I," Anne said simply. "Inside, I mean. I could only see emptiness if you were to go- and you wouldn't even have known that it was me you were leaving." Gilbert watched her, motionless. "I didn't mean that I would have- well, what was it Hamlet said? _To take arms against a sea of troubles and end them?_ " He flinched at the idea, his arms coming around her waist tightly. "I wasn't thinking like that, Gilbert. It was about me simply giving up."

"You shouldn't have been like that over me," he said, pulling back in anger, and she met his look evenly.

"At me ruining everything? I think I had as much right as you ever did to punish myself. When- when I went to you, that was a blow I wasn't ever going to be ready for. But it wasn't until Josie spoke to me that I saw the utter scale of the mess that I'd made. And I did give up- for a time." She took his face in her hands, and looked at him lovingly. "But however I felt, I couldn't stop living. I went to Summerside. I stumbled onto a house in Spooks Lane- and yes, that is real- and I found a home there. They didn't ask me why I had arrived early for the school term, they just welcomed me into their hearts. And slowly, I began to make a new life there." Anne smiled in remembrance. "Eventually, the pain became less acute, and I could push it out of sight- all except in my dreams. In them, you lived on."

Gilbert held her tightly in his arms. The journey they had both been on was so similar- she could have been describing his own. He bent to kiss her and held her green-grey eyes for a moment. "We're together now," he said simply. "And you're right- it's not the time for regrets. We've been there for too long."

Anne chuckled. "And now we're talking weddings and houses."

" _Our wedding_ , Anne." He grinned at her then. "Shall we go home next weekend and tell everyone in person?"

Anne froze. " _Oh_ \- you mean us going to Avonlea?"

He pulled away and studied her face, and then frowned. "Anne, I felt that, you know."

"Felt what?"

He gave her the look Anne had come to know every well, that of the stern clinician. "The way you became tense as soon as I mentioned Avonlea. Tell me what you're thinking."

She pulled away from him gently, and he sat back to watch her. "It's May, Gilbert."

Gilbert frowned. "Yes…"

"In just a few days, it will have been a year since Marilla died," Anne said softly.

Gilbert's eyes had closed in chagrin. "Oh, sweetheart."

She spoke slowly. "I know that I need to go back. I need to go through the remaining things from the house- and I need to say goodbye. I should- I should go. I was going to go back this summer."

He nodded, running gentle hands over her shoulders. "We still can, if you like. Did you want us to be married there?"

She shook her head, a little tear glistening in her eye. "No. I don't. I want to be married _here_ ," she said softly. "This is where we started again- this is home now." She drew in a shaking breath. "We would go back together?" she asked through a tight throat.

Gilbert bent to kiss her softly, needing to reassure her. "I'll be with you, sweetheart. I'll come to the house, I'll be with you every step of the way. If I thought Di would let me, I'd camp outside your room at night. And I'll come to the graveyard with you- just like I did with Matthew."

Anne's face fell. "I- I haven't been there," she said softly. "Not since the funeral. I- it was so cold in the winter, and I wasn't sure-" she gestured to her leg, and he sighed.

He bent down to look at her. "It's up to you, love. I think it would be good for us to go- but we won't unless you are ready." At her nod, he smiled. "Anne, I want to be able to tell the folks we love that our wedding will be soon. I want to see how happy they are, and rejoice with them. And this way we can face the inevitable Avonlea gossip together- give them something good to say, for once. And I wouldn't mind having a few words with Josie Pye."

Anne grimaced. "Neither would I."

Gilbert grinned at her wickedly. "The best revenge is living well, they say. Although I wouldn't mind rubbing her nose in our happiness too."

Anne met his hazel eyes, her own softening at his tenderness. "Then let's go home," she said softly. "You're right- we shouldn't write about this. The people we love deserve to celebrate with us."

Gilbert smiled at her, leaning in to kiss her- and in that kiss was his promise.

When the evening had grown late, and Susan had long since put herself to bed, Anne and Gilbert walked to the front door as they had done so often of late. There was a new tension in the air now though, and Gilbert now drew her close to him and kissed her as he had always wanted to do.

"I love you, Carrots," he whispered, his curls brushing against her own. "Anne, you've made me happier today than I ever thought I could be."

Anne's arms came around his neck, and she looked up into his hazel eyes with confidence. "And I love you, dearest." She moved back slightly to see him with a smile. "You know, I do feel a little guilty that we have no plans set as yet."

He smiled at her then. "I think it's alright to take some time just for us, Anne-girl. If you and I are together, everything else will simply fall into place."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

In the aisle of the Glen St Mary church, a collection of feathered hats stood in a cluster, their owners clucking excitedly underneath.

"Did you see the schoolmarm, now? Hanging onto the doctor's arm like she thought should have been there all along!"

"Oh, I think it's lovely," an older woman said comfortably. "Look how happy Doctor Blythe looks."

The hats swiveled to see Gilbert and Anne standing by the door talking with Reverend Toomey and his wife, the last in a long line of people coming to congratulate them. "She looks terribly pale in yellow," Mrs Langley said with a sniff.

"Well, it _is_ nice to see her out of mourning now-"

"Black hardly did her any favours," one sallow woman commented, sweeping a limp ostrich feather over her shoulder.

Mrs Randall leant into the group with an air of secrecy. "I heard that the two of them have been madly in love since they were children," she said gleefully. "My sister lives in Carmody, she says that her sister-in-law told her that they quarreled when Miss Shirley wanted to go to off to college. You could see it from the start- he hardly took his eyes off her."

Noises of interest came from the others, and one rosy little lady chuckled. "Well, they look most pleased with themselves now, don't they? Like the cat that got the cream."

Over near the doors, Gilbert drew in a breath of relief as the Reverend moved off. "Well, that was fun." The two of them turned to walk down the steps and into the sunshine, in blissful ignorance of the fact that the gaggle of women collectively gasped when he placed his hand on the small of her back to assist her.

Anne's eyes twinkled. "It's only just beginning, doctor. And at least I don't have to worry about leading the prayer meeting, in marrying you."

He looked at her indulgently. "You're making no sense whatsoever, darling."

Anne chuckled. "Oh, something Phil once said. I never asked her if she actually had to do it. I don't think anyone will expect me to know about your work, dearest."

"Don't count on it, Anne. Aunt Katherine often got asked how to treat rashes and various ailments."

Susan came to stand beside the pair now, her gloves in hand. "Anne dearie, Cornelia Elliot will be over tomorrow evening- I suspect to find out everything about you and the doctor personally," she said dryly.

Anne chuckled. "It's a story she deserves to hear, Susan. She was the one who told me that Gilbert was in Four Winds, after all." Anne turned to him, her eyes brimming with laughter. "You should have seen the way I quaked while confirming that it was the _younger_ Doctor Blythe here, instead of your Uncle."

"I remember him well, Doctor. He was a fine gentleman," Susan added.

Gilbert grinned. "He was. I've been assured that I will never replace him in people's hearts- and so I don't try. I can only hope to carry on his legacy well."

After Susan had left the couple to their own devices, Anne smiled at Gilbert. "The people here adore you, Gil- and Miss Cornelia, in particular, thinks the world of _young_ Doctor Blythe. She just won't tell you that."

As the two of them moved to where Andrew and Lizzie were waiting, Gilbert leaned in with a roguish grin. "Well, we wouldn't want me thinking too highly of myself, would we?"

* * *

Andrew Winston sat in the big chair in his sitting room that afternoon, smiling at his sleepy daughter chattering away to Anne on the sofa. He flicked a look across at Gilbert, whose head was resting on the back of his chair with closed eyes, a gentle smile on his face. He grinned himself- contentment became the man.

He'd been sitting down to his breakfast when Gilbert bounded in from the front door with the news Andrew had been waiting for. After a boisterous slap on the back from his friend, Gilbert had been sat down with a plate of his own, Mrs. Heyer insisting that he may be as well congratulated on a full stomach as an empty one.

In the wake of Penny's departure, Andrew had insisted that Gilbert come over as often as he had previously- his housekeeper had developed the habit of checking each day just how many people would be sitting down to dinner that night. Penny wrote often, and Andrew could see how happy his sister was to be back at home with their parents. It had taken several weeks before his father would take Penny's request to do bookkeeping seriously, however, persistence had won out, and each morning Penny would spend a few hours working on the books in her father's study, showing herself to have quite the knack for it. The independence she had gained in her four years away had proved most beneficial, and their parents loved having her at home again.

Andrew now looked across at Gilbert curiously. He wasn't sure how often Gilbert and Doctor Barnes corresponded- he didn't know if Jeremy had mentioned the fact that he had been dining at the Winston manor for the last month after the Sunday service. Andrew smiled wickedly. Well, his _mother_ had mentioned it…

He turned to Anne and Gilbert then. "So what are your plans for the wedding?" he asked the pair. He watched them begin to laugh, and looked over in bemusement. "What did I say that was amusing?"

Anne chuckled. "We have rather a lot of things that need to be decided- and not quite enough information to make a decision yet. We should know more after we return home next weekend."

Andrew nodded thoughtfully. "Will your folks mind that the wedding will be here?"

Gilbert shook his head. "No- as long as that's what we want." He turned to Anne, his brow lowered. "It _is_ what you want, isn't it, Anne?"

She quirked her mouth into a wistful smile. "It won't be at Green Gables," she said softly. "That is another family's home now, and as much as I love Diana's home, any other place wouldn't feel right. _This_ is home, Gil." She put her arms around the little girl snuggled into her side with a book, and smiled. "We could be married in the garden at the cottage this summer."

Gilbert smiled at her. "We've certainly worked hard enough over it- and the roses will be stunning. What will we do if it rains?"

Andrew cleared his throat, oddly emotional. "Have it here. There will be plenty of room for your guests if it does, and Penny and I would be honored to host it."

Anne looked up in surprise. "Penny?"

Andrew smiled. "She told me to tell you both that she will be back here for your wedding no matter what- she and Mother wish to come out here this summer, probably to make sure that Lizzie and I do what we promised, and go back to Boston for a time."

"How could she know? It only happened yesterday," Gilbert said in confusion.

Andrew grinned. "Call it women's intuition. She knew it was coming. Oh, and Anne, she asked me to tell you that she will assist with any shopping you require in Montreal."

Anne chuckled. "Who would have thought that we were so predictable, Gilbert? If Diana has a wedding dress ready for me when we go home, I will really begin to believe that our steps are laid out for us."

Lizzie startled everyone by speaking up then, her eyes enormous. "Where will you live, Miss Shirley? Are you going to leave?"

Anne shook her head, her look gentle. "No, Lizzie. Our home is here in Four Winds. We are going home to see our families next week, and we will come back here again."

Lizzie seemed to relax then, and Andrew's heart fell. Most of the time she did very well, however, she missed Penny terribly- and had clung to his and Anne's sides in her absence. "Oh. Alright. What house will you live in?"

"Well, Doctor Blythe and I will most likely buy a house for us to live in," Anne explained, her voice kind and matter-of-fact.

Lizzie's lower lip protruded. "But I like _your_ house, Miss Shirley. Susan is there."

"Darling, Susan will come and live with us in our new house."

She tipped her head up to see her beloved teacher. "But there's another room upstairs in the cottage," Lizzie argued. "Susan showed it to me. Doctor Blythe can live in there, can't he?"

The coughing fits that all three adults seemed to experience at this point made Lizzie look at them curiously. Realising that she had been too young to understand while her mother was alive, Andrew stepped in, speaking softly in an attempt to not embarrass his guests. "Lizzie, darling, one day Doctor Blythe and Miss Shirley will need a bigger house for their family. And, little duck, husbands and wives like to stay in the same room as each other."

Lizzie's intelligent eyes studied her father. "Oh. Did you and mama do that?"

Andrew smiled at her. "Yes, pumpkin. Now, don't you think it's time for you to take that nap you promised me you would have? We can ask Mrs. Heyer if you can have a cookie first." At this, the frowning little girl visibly brightened up, and her father unfolded his long frame from the chair with a wry grin. "If you will excuse me, Anne and Gilbert."

Anne began to laugh as soon as Lizzie had left the room, and Gilbert smiled as he crossed to sit beside her. "She reminds me of you, you know."

Anne chuckled. "She certainly talks the way I did- or the way I would have done if I had felt safe enough to do so as a child."

Gilbert pulled her to his side, a slight frown on his face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Anne turned to him then, her look stern. "Please, stop that, Gil. I don't wish to censor myself with you- and that is very hard to avoid when you insist on apologising for things that you never had any control over- nor myself, for that matter. It was a lifetime ago. And when I came to Green Gables I received everything I had ever hoped for."

Gilbert met her eyes evenly. "You can't expect me to not be affected by your past, Anne. It bothers me when you talk about it as if it was normal- it always did." As grey eyes met hazel, eventually he smiled. "But I will try to not overreact," he said reluctantly.

Anne's grey eyes twinkled at him. "If it's any consolation, I intend for our children to be as wonderfully over-protected and adored as you were, Gil." There was a silence then, and Anne sighed. She'd promised herself she wouldn't worry him with this- and yet who would understand the situation better? It was foolish to keep things from him now. "Gilbert? May I ask you something?"

As one brown eyebrow rose, he folded his arms with a grin. "You've not often hesitated before talking to me, Anne. Is there a reason you need to ask?"

Anne's face flushed, and she turned away from him, cross at herself. "It shouldn't be anything- and I don't want to pay any heed to malicious words, but then there could be something in them, couldn't there? And I _should_ talk to you about that."

"You've lost me utterly, Anne-girl."

In the distance, they heard Andrew's telephone ring, and knowing they would have privacy for a short time, Anne spoke quietly. "Is there a chance that I am too old to have children?"

A sudden spark flamed in his eyes at her words, and he shifted himself on the seat. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"It was a comment I wasn't even supposed to hear this morning," she said evenly. "It just made me wonder-"

Gilbert pulled away to turn his whole body to her, his arm resting on the back of the sofa. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

Anne crossed her arms over her chest with a sigh. "I don't know. However, I thought it sensible to discuss it with you before I flew off the handle."

Gilbert watched her in disbelief. There she sat baring her deepest fear- and only _he_ knew how deeply that fear would run in her; and here she was staring unflinchingly into his eyes. He almost chuckled then, seeing the way she would have handled her doctors only the previous year.

"Firstly, the poisonous old biddies who might have spoken about this are hardly the experts you want to be listening to," he said, attempting to match her calmness.

Anne's voice was brittle as she regarded him. "They were surprised that you did not choose someone _younger_. Someone who-"

The anger bubbled up inside at the worry on her face, and he interrupted her. "Anne, don't tell me you are paying attention to that rubbish-"

"No, Gilbert, I am not," she emphasised crisply. "What I _am_ doing is asking my future husband, who is also an experienced doctor, if he thinks that there is any truth behind their words. If there is, then we should talk about that."

With difficulty, Gilbert held his tongue and then pulled her hands into his, his eyes resolutely on her own. "Anne, you're _twenty-nine,_ and neither of us is approaching any kind of advanced age. It's the perfect time to start a life together, start a family. Remember? You're taking your cue from people who got married as young as seventeen and had children within a year of that. You can't let that kind of old-fashioned thinking upset you."

Anne let out a breath slowly. "I suppose not. But I used to hear the women back home making similar comments about people getting married later than most- you remember how they used to talk of poor Mr. and Mrs. McTaggert."

"Who became proud parents of three boys while we were in college," Gilbert said firmly. He moved off the sofa to kneel at her feet, his serious hazel eyes on her. "You know I'd tell you the truth- and I'm telling you that they're wrong. And if it was only you and I for the rest of our lives, then I'm happy, Anne-girl. Uncle Dave and Aunt Katherine did it- and they got married when she was twenty. But if I were to guess-" and hesitantly he took her hands as a blush swept over the two of them, "Then I think that you and I could easily be parents in a years' time."

Anne leaned forward to kiss him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "Thank you, Gilbert," she whispered. She pulled away then, a curious look on her face as she watched him.

He smiled at her. "What is it? More gossip to refute?"

Anne shook her head with a smile, as Gilbert moved to sit back down beside her. "No, something else. Later, perhaps. However," she said mischievously, "There was much discussion about us. Miss Cornelia, of course, thinks you are very lucky to have me; Mrs. Morris thinks that I will make you a very sweet wife. Mrs Turnbull said that she believes that we have been secretly flirting with each other for months, and wonders if I have the right constitution to become a doctor's wife."

Gilbert was laughing by the time Andrew arrived back in the room, and as he sat down he good-naturedly asked to be let in on the joke.

Gilbert grinned. "Oh, our engagement is creating waves- you know the local gossip."

Andrew grinned wickedly. "Indeed. After all, it's rumored that I broke the heart of a Danish princess in my youth."

Anne's eyebrows flew up in amusement. "Oh? Why do they say that?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

* * *

Five days later, on a windy Friday afternoon, Gilbert and Anne stood at the Glen St Mary train station with Susan, waiting to board the train. Anne had moved down the platform to speak to the parents of one of her students, and Susan turned to Gilbert anxiously.

"Now, doctor, she is much more tired on Friday afternoons, so you need to make sure she spends plenty of time resting-"

Gilbert chuckled. "We'll be on a train for three hours, Susan, she won't be walking around much if I can help it."

"And she is _impossible_ to keep off that foot if she decides that she wants to be outside-"

Gilbert suppressed an amused grin. "I know."

Anne returned just then, and Susan turned to her mistress. "Now, have you got everything you need, Anne dearie?"

"Susan, everything is as ready as it can be- and Diana will have anything I have missed. All of the school parents know that class will resume on Tuesday, and Gilbert and I will arrive back here on Monday."

The whistle blew and Anne gave Susan a quick hug, and within minutes she and Gilbert had boarded the train. Together they waved goodbye to a surprisingly tearful Susan, who turned to leave the platform slowly.

When the train began to move away from the siding, Gilbert smiled as they settled back into their seat. "Does she always worry this much?" he asked her, moving his hat to the bench before them.

Anne gave him a wry look. "More or less. You know, I think this is quite difficult for her."

He looked startled. "Because of me?"

"Perhaps," Anne said thoughtfully. "When I first moved here, I had no one but Susan- and she was used to being the only person I relied on. To share that with you must be difficult."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Well, she needs to learn- I am your future husband, after all."

Anne chuckled. "Please don't be offended, Gil, it's hard to feel supplanted. I felt it when Mrs. Lynde first came to live with Marilla."

His eyebrows rose. "Even with us at Redmond?"

Anne smiled. "Even then- although she never replaced me in Marilla's heart, I know that."

Gilbert took her hand in his, his look content. "Well, I hope Susan will learn to trust me with you eventually."

Anne chuckled. "She will; although she is already beginning to adopt you as well, I think. Susan is nothing if not whole-hearted in her job."

The long train ride took them through Charlottetown as the spring evening fell. The train's tea room provided a break in the scenery, with rocking chandeliers gleaming in the light of the lamps, and the tinkling of china and silver spoons a pleasant background to Anne and Gilbert's conversation.

Gilbert held her hand across the table with a little smile- this was a luxury that they had rarely taken part in during their journeys through college, choosing instead to picnic in their carriages with the other students amongst them. He grinned. Age and financial independence certainly had their advantages.

Over their tea, Anne told Gilbert of the visit the board had made her the previous evening, and of their concern that finding another teacher of her caliber would prove difficult.

"They are a little ruffled, Gil, the board is enjoying the increased attention the Glen school has been getting," Anne said now, with a chuckle. "The last inspector's report was excellent."

"You did that, sweetheart," Gilbert said confidently, and then studied her. "Did you tell them of your suggestion?"

Anne sighed comfortably. "Yes. Mrs. Matthews would be a wonderful teacher- however, they said that they need time to deliberate, especially considering my own involvement."

The problem of Anne's position was one she and Gilbert had already discussed, knowing that the decision needed to be made early. Mrs. Matthews was a trained teacher only a few years younger than Anne, who had been widowed only six months previously. She had been searching for employment that spring to care for her three young children, and at Gilbert's suggestion, Anne had visited her several days ago. Between the two of them, they had come up with a workable plan for the next year's schooling that Anne took to the rest of the board that evening.

The gentlemen, who had expressed their congratulations as well as their regret at her eventual resignation listened to Anne's suggestion for the next year carefully.

"Mrs. Matthews was a teacher in a school in Montague for four years before her marriage, and an excellently qualified one," Anne said diplomatically. "It will take some time for her to accustom herself to the full week, and I think between the two of us she would make the transition back into full-time work, while I ensure the continuity of the classroom. She still has one child at home, but only for a few more months- during that time I suggest that I work alongside her, gradually reducing my own time in the classroom, but available to assist with the planning and the work for the older students."

Mr. Samuels sat back, eying Anne speculatively. "Miss Shirley, you understand that you could simply leave," he said gravely. "It is customary to do so, after all. Your time here has been immensely successful, and you would leave with our gratitude for your hard work. Why be so concerned about your successor?"

Anne smiled at him. "Because I love my students," she said simply. "I believe that Mrs. Matthews would be exemplary for them, and also that it would be a good thing for her to have some time to adjust before taking on the full weight of the job. You would gain another teacher who loves the community, and she would have the support necessary to ensure a good transition into the position."

"And you would continue to teach two days a week under this plan?" Mr. Peters asked curiously. "Does Doctor Blythe support the idea?"

Anne smiled. "It was his suggestion, in fact. Doctor Blythe and I taught school together for two years before we went to university. He heard of Mrs. Matthews' credentials in the course of his work."

The gentlemen spoke for a time, and then rose to leave, reaffirming their congratulations at her impending marriage, and the promise that they would consider her request. All Anne could do now, was wait.

As the two of them rose from the table to return to their carriage, Anne glanced at the growing darkness the train sped through. Gilbert's arm was steadying against the rock of the train, and she sat down beside him with a thoughtful look.

"Gil?"

He turned to her easily, his twisted smile quite making her forget what she had been thinking about. "Yes, future wife?"

Anne chuckled. "Oh! Well, it's about that, actually. I have been thinking about after we are married-"

"So have I," he said cheekily. " _Constantly_. No, really, I was lancing Mr. Putter's boil and I was thinking about you and I-"

Anne put her hand on his mouth, her eyes twinkling merrily. "That's quite enough, Gilbert; I'm being serious." He placed a kiss on her palm and grinned when she pulled away blushing. "I want to ask you something."

He sobered, loving the way she scowled for a moment. "Fire away."

"Do you think I should have the operation that Jeremy recommended?" Anne asked slowly, surprising him completely.

"You've been thinking about that?"

"Well, since a handsome man asked me to be his wife, yes." She turned to look outside into the darkness, and he listened intently. "I suppose it all starts with the idea of us having children," she said deliberately. "Months ago there seemed little point in even considering it- even though Jeremy did suggest that it would make me steadier."

Gilbert's arm slipped around her shoulders. "Yes. It would." Gilbert couldn't pretend to not understand her- he'd had the same thoughts himself. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't pressure her, and so he spoke lightly.

"Anne, you are incredible for all that you have handled- I couldn't be prouder of you. But you're right- things are going to change for us soon. And in light of that-" he seemed to hesitate then. "As excited as I am about everything that awaits us, my first priority is to protect you. When I started thinking about this all those months ago, I kept wondering what would happen after we were married-"

To his utter shock Anne gave him a wicked smile. " _Really_ , Doctor Blythe? Surely someone should have had that conversation with you already." she teased.

He grinned and snatched her close to kiss her firmly. "They _did_ , Miss Shirley, and I look forward to showing you everything I learned," he said with an amused look. "I'm not Redmond's top student for nothing. But that does bring me to what we need to talk about."

Anne's look was thoughtful then. "Pregnancy."

Gilbert gave her a loving look. "Yes. And I'm concerned that pregnancy- a state that I have been dreaming of, for us for a long time- that it could put you in danger; for that matter put the _two_ of you in danger. My only other choice would be to insist on bed rest for you as much as possible- and I think you know how much you would hate nine months of that."

Anne drew in a deep breath, ignoring the butterflies that swirled inside at the thought of a baby. "I could fall."

He smiled sadly. "You've joked about how often it happens, sweetheart- and I won't risk your safety. I want a family, and we've waited so long to be together- but I need to keep you safe. If you decide not to, we'll work with it; but I'll be keeping an annoyingly close eye on you."

Anne turned to him steadily. "And I suppose if I were to do it that it would be better to do it before the wedding."

Gilbert's look was chagrined. "As much as I want to run away with you right now- yes." Thankful that they had chosen seats at the rear of the carriage, Gilbert held her close. She sighed and cuddled into his side.

"Would I go to Montreal?"

"I wouldn't trust you to anyone other than Jeremy, Anne. I know the hospital- I know the staff, and I told you, he's the best."

Anne sighed. "So that means that our wedding would need to wait."

Gilbert deliberated for some minutes in silence. "I'll get in touch with him when we get back- but I think we wouldn't be away for more than a few weeks. We could still be married by August, at the latest."

Anne smiled at him then. " _We_?"

He kissed her forehead with a chuckle. "I'm not letting you go there without me, Anne-girl. If you are doing this, I'll be with you every step of the way."

Anne laughed. "But not into the surgery, surely."

He grinned. "With you under an anesthetic? I'll be lucky if he lets me on hospital property."

* * *

That night, the Wright horses pulled up at the Carmody station with little time to spare, and the train was coming into the station as Fred assisted his wife from the wagon.

Diana puffed at the exertion. "Goodness, Fred! We were right to not bring the children I think; thank heavens Mother could stay with them this time. I do hope she puts Jack to bed on time, he's been terribly cross this afternoon." Di pulled her skirts out of the dust, and turned to Fred, worried. "Anne hasn't come home for a weekend since she lived in Summerside. Do you think that everything is alright at the Glen?"

Fred chuckled, and the two of them started to head towards the station office. "We'll see soon enough. Far as I can see, Anne's been fine."

Diana stopped walking in surprise, seeing the bigger-than-usual crowd ahead. "Why are there so many people here tonight?"

Fred shrugged. "Queen's students coming home. There are at least five of them from Avonlea this year, apparently."

He led his wife onto the platform as the train pulled to a halt, and Diana peered impatiently at the porters leaping to open doors. They moved to a clear space at the end of the platform, and Diana stopped suddenly. "Why, Mrs Blythe!" she exclaimed in surprise, as Sonia turned to greet them.

John stepped up to shake Fred's hand in greeting, and for just a moment, no one was paying attention to the doors the porter had just opened at the end of the train.

"Are you here to meet someone?" Diana asked, confused.

Sonia looked surprised. "Yes, Gilbert told us that he was coming in for the weekend. Do _you_ have family visiting, Diana?"

Diana shook her black head. "No- Anne is," she said slowly. "How strange- she never mentioned that Gilbert was coming as well in her letter."

Meanwhile, a couple stepped down onto the end of the platform, standing still as they watched the foursome in conversation not ten yards away.

"Last moment of anonymity?" the gentleman murmured to the woman.

She chuckled. "Last one, dearest."

Knowing he had only seconds, he bent down to kiss her softly on the lips. Suddenly he stopped, as an ear-piercing shriek filled the air, drawing the attention of all those left standing at the station. Anne's cheeks flushed, and Gilbert lifted his head to see Diana's mouth open in a most unladylike fashion, Sonia's hand over her own trying to hold back tears, and the identical grins on Fred and John's Blythe's faces. With a smile, Gilbert took Anne's hand in his own tightly, and a moment later the two of them were engulfed in the embrace of those who loved them the most.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

An hour after the tear-filled and chaotic greeting on the platform, a dumbstruck Diana stood watching the people crowded into her sitting room, holding a plate of cookies that tipped precariously. Diana's distraction was so complete that little Fred had asked for and received a total of eight cookies, many more than his mother would have allowed ordinarily. Sonia Blythe sat on one side of her future daughter-in-law, holding Anne's hand as if afraid that she would melt away if she released it, and Gilbert was hanging over the back of Anne's chair teasing his mother. Diana absently handed over another cookie to her son, watching Anne and Gilbert's easy manner in bewilderment.

How long had it been since she had seen Gilbert Blythe like this? Perhaps not since their first year in college- could that really be ten years ago, now? And here he was looking at Anne as he once had, and _she was looking at him the same way!_ Di shook her head in amazement. Oh, she'd known that Anne had loved him for years- however, the thought that brought her close to tears now was watching the sparkle she had not seen in Anne's face since before Marilla's death, before the accident. Her beloved friend had found her way back home again- and Gilbert Blythe was responsible for that.

"Di, did you really say that Fred could have more to eat?" her husband asked dubiously as he came beside her. "Your mother said that she gave the children supper earlier."

Diana snapped herself back to attention. "Oh, _goodness_ ; of course not," she said. "I was just- distracted."

Fred chuckled, his eyes turning to Anne and Gilbert. "I know- I can hardly believe it," he muttered. "It's seeing them be _them_ after all this time."

Diana drew in a deep breath. "They were never like _this_ before though," she said quietly.

Fred looked at her oddly. "You are happy for them, aren't you, Di?"

Diana turned to him in surprise. "Of course. I'm just so- I didn't expect it to happen so soon."

Fred snorted. "I doubt anyone could call this _soon_."

At this Diana chuckled. "Perhaps not- but oh, it's been a long time since I have seen them this happy."

After a few minutes, the normally placid Anne Cordelia erupted into tears, and Diana decided that it was bedtime for the children. Fred waved her away and carted them off to their bedroom, leaving Di to sit down beside Anne. She smiled at the way Gilbert perched himself on the arm of Anne's chair.

"I don't suppose you've had much time to make plans yet, have you?" Diana asked, bringing a look of excitement on Sonia's face.

"Oh, soon, Gilbert darling, please," Sonia pleaded. "It's been so long since there was a family wedding, and the flowers will be so lovely here, in a month or so."

Gilbert reached down for Anne's hand, his hazel eyes watchful as he saw the faint tension on her face.

"Well, I hope this won't come as a disappointment to you both, but we would very much like to be married back home," he said gently. He felt Anne's fingers close on his, and he squeezed her hand to reassure her. "We love it here, but we want the wedding to be in Four Winds."

Diana swallowed a few times, catching the faint look of grief on Anne's face- she knew that Anne was thinking of Marilla. "Well, darling, I think it will be lovely at the Glen," she said brightly. "I have heard so much about it from you- and I can't wait to see it for myself."

Sonia smiled at Anne then. "I would travel to the end of the earth to see the two of you safely married- and the Glen is lovely in the summertime. When have you decided on?"

Anne took over now, explaining simply that her operation would be the deciding factor on the timing. Diana's eyes were enormous at the idea of travelling to Montreal, and bypassing the operation for the moment, she squeaked excitedly at the idea of Anne shopping for her trousseau in the city.

Anne smiled. "I'm sure I won't need much, Di darling. I expect that I will need some time to recover afterwards- although no doubt Penny Winston will have something to say about the shopping too."

Diana scowled. "Then allow me to write a letter to this celebrated woman, perhaps between the two of us we can get you outfitted properly. And _surely_ you will have time for some sight-seeing as well."

When both women had a clearer idea of the timeline involved, Sonia sat back with a sigh. "Three months isn't so very long," she said thoughtfully. "Anne, dearie, what may we do to help you now?"

Anne was by now fighting her tiredness, recalling with bewilderment that she had finished teaching school only hours ago. She swallowed, her eyes falling. "There are things I need to take care of while we are here," she said softly. "I don't want to take away from our news, or time away from you all- however there are jobs I have been putting off for some time now."

Diana met Sonia's eyes, while Gilbert slipped a comforting arm around his fiancée. She spoke to her friend then. "It's alright, Anne. We know that needs your time as well. We did everything that you asked us to. The furniture you wished to keep is in the barn, and mother and I took everything personal from the house. We can send what you wish to Four Winds as soon as you like." She placed a warm hand on Anne's arm. "The Williams family would very much like to meet you, darling," Diana said quietly. "They know how much you care for Green Gables, and wanted you to know that you are welcome to visit."

Anne blinked back the tears that were beginning to fall. "Thank you." She choked back a sob, then, her emotions beginning to overwhelm her. "I'm sorry, Di, I promise that I am really very happy," she said feebly, and the three people close to her began to laugh as Gilbert pulled her into his arms.

"You're tired, sweetheart," he said gently. "We can talk about all of this in the morning."

Diana blinked back her own tears at the way he comforted her and then got to her feet. "Of course- Mrs Blythe, I'm sure it will be best to keep this pair together as much as possible, would you the three of you like to come for dinner here tomorrow evening?"

Sonia smiled. "Of course. I expect you will let me know if there is anything I can do for Anne tomorrow. You should come to us on Sunday, Diana."

As these arrangements were made, Gilbert bent down to look at Anne with a smile. She was flagging, and he gently touched his nose to hers. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She nestled her face on his shoulder, unaware of Sonia and Diana's shared smile at the tender action. "I will be. Although I do need to go to sleep- I was arguing contractions with Jimmy Sawyer not six hours ago."

He grinned. "He didn't take your word for it, Miss Shirley?"

Anne tried to suppress a yawn, and her mouth quirked into a smile. "No."

He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet, turning to look at Diana in question.

"Anne, darling, your room is ready- and Anne Cordelia has insisted that you sleep with her dolly tonight. She doesn't wish you to be lonely." With a droll look at her guests, Diana led the way back into the kitchen. Her mind was on what needed to be done, and she missed Gilbert's muttered "Half dolly's luck," that broke her friend into a blushing laugh.

Sonia and John Blythe stood in the kitchen waiting for Gilbert to say goodnight to Anne, and he bent his brown head to kiss her on the cheek, lingering to whisper, his breath warm on her ear. "Hmm. Saying goodnight in front of the families. Isn't this _fun_?" he teased quietly, and Anne's cheeks heated. He straightened up with a wink that made Anne chuckle and Diana's eyes widened. Gilbert then stood to attention as a discomposed Diana began to issue instructions.

"Fred, dear, would you mind getting a pitcher of water for Anne's room? I forgot to do that earlier- and we were in such a rush that I didn't have Anne's bags put in her room. Gilbert, would you take them down the hall to the first door on the right for me? Thank you." Gilbert moved to do it quickly, until Diana gave a sudden gasp, having forgotten propriety. This was _Avonlea_ , after all. "Oh, goodness, Gilbert, I shouldn't have you going in there, I'll take them in myself."

She took the bags from him, while Gilbert gave her a surprised look. "Di, it's really not necessary, I've already been in her bedr-" Anne's elbow met his ribs just a moment too late, he swallowed the end of the sentence, his hazel eyes brimming with laughter. "Err, professionally, of course." He turned to Anne, whose cheeks were a pink that the dim light could not hide. "Anne, it seems I'm not needed right now, so I'll come over first thing in the morning. Fred, Diana, goodnight," he said courteously before he followed his bewildered parents out the door. Sonia had done her best to keep silent up until this point, but at the buggy turned to him with a twinkling look.

"And just _what_ were you doing in her bedroom, Gilbert?"

Gilbert choked back an embarrassed laugh. "Mother, Dad," he protested, attempting to keep sober. "I swear it was strictly as a physician. It was _months_ ago, and she was ill. I was completely professional, as was she."

 _Well, except for being madly in love with my patient,_ he thought with a guilty grin.

Inside the house, Diana led the way to Anne's room and pounced on her friend once safely inside. " _He's been in your room?"_ she squeaked, grabbing Anne's hands.

Anne's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I had influenza in February, Di. Susan panicked, and called Gilbert- only he happened to have it as well. He came in to check on me, and we were quite the pair, coughing and sniffling away."

"So the _handsome_ Doctor Blythe was soothing your fevered brow, I suppose?" Diana teased, evoking long ago memories of the Story Club tales.

Anne chuckled, removing the jacket of her travelling suit. "I will say, Diana," she said archly, "That he is my _very_ favourite doctor of all."

* * *

When Gilbert arrived at Lone Willow Farm the next morning, he was startled to find that Anne was not there. Diana told him that she had awoken full of energy, and had decided to go for a walk. She was sitting having a cup of tea while the children were playing in the back garden, and rose to get a cup for Gilbert as well.

Gilbert watched her oddly. "So you weren't worried that Anne wanted to go for a walk?"

Diana's black eyes twinkled. "She was determined- and I chose to let you handle things when you got here. I figured that would be soon enough."

Gilbert laughed. "Fair enough. Where did she go?"

Diana put down her cup, and sighed. "Not far, I think. I don't think we should be too concerned, she is steadier than I have seen her in a while- and she knows Avonlea like the back of her hand."

He smiled. "She does."

Before he could rise, Diana stopped him. "Gilbert, I know that you want to find her, but would you mind sitting with me for a minute first?" Diana said slowly. "I wondered if you would tell me something. Was it Anne's decision to get that operation done?"

Gilbert looked at her in surprise. "You aren't suggesting that I'm forcing her to, are you? Have you _met_ Anne?"

"No, of course not," she said crossly. "I'm just— concerned. Only a few weeks ago she wrote and told me that she had most definitely resolved against it. I didn't expect her to agree, knowing how painful it was for her last time," Diana said, her voice frank.

Gilbert looked at her piercingly. "If you are asking me did I convince her to reconsider, then the answer is _no_. She only came to me about it yesterday. But if you are asking do I agree that it's necessary, then _yes_."

Diana appeared to struggle with this. "Gilbert, why put her through that again, when she is well enough for now?"

Gilbert covered his own frustration, choosing to speak gently. "Because at any point she could have a fall that makes it all worse. Di, you've been through pregnancy three times- was it hard on your body?" he asked.

Diana snorted. "Of course. You feel unwell, and your muscles are _never_ the same again-" she brought herself to a halt, with cheeks bright red with embarrassment.

Gilbert grinned. "It's alright, Di. I've delivered plenty of babies." He shifted in his seat with a sigh. "Your centre of gravity changes. To someone who has been through what Anne has- well, you can see why that changes things."

Diana let out a long breath. "I suppose so." She seemed to struggle then, and shook her head. "You didn't see her in the hospital, Gilbert," she said, subdued. "It almost destroyed her."

Gilbert folded his arms, swallowing hard. "I know. And she's forgiven me for not being there. Can _you_?"

Diana looked at him in shock. "Gilbert, I don't blame you for the accident. That was no one's fault."

He gave a painful laugh. "You and I both know that it didn't have to be that way. And I know that I've been an idiot- I _know_ you hold that against me-"

Diana pushed her cup away, her look stern. "I _don't_ , Gil. I won't deny that I was angry- I've seen her hurt over you for years. I know that you did over her as well. But it's over- and I couldn't be happier for you both."

Gilbert finally nodded. "Di, I don't want her to go through more pain- but doing nothing could be worse," he said quietly. "Jeremy thinks it has a good chance of helping- and he's the only one I would trust with her." He chuckled then. "He got cross at me for being too emotional about her condition- told me I needed to be professional when I wanted to make her change her mind."

Diana laughed then. "Even back then?"

Gilbert grinned sheepishly. "Jeremy knew what she was to me. He knew I was in love with her."

Dian turned to the back door as an argument broke out amongst the children, and she smiled. "That sounds like it needs my attention," she said dryly. "Gilbert, she headed out towards Birch path- and we're only a short walk from the graveyard. I would check there first."

Gilbert bent to kiss her on the cheek with a grin. "Thanks, Di. I'll bring her back soon."

* * *

The old Avonlea graveyard was quiet, the long strands of willows blowing gently in the breeze. Anne slipped down on the grass between Matthew and Marilla's graves. She closed her eyes for a moment in exhaustion and almost chuckled. It was the longest distance she had walked in a year and a half- hadn't her last walk been to the Summerside graveyard, only days before the accident? Anne brushed the red hair from her face, and sighed. That time seemed from another world, now. Indispensable to the town she served, a celebrated principal by then, and yet she had been so restless- she could see that now. She stretched out her injured leg and turned to look at Marilla's gravestone. Behind Matthew's resting place, the white rosebush stood ready to bloom- and Anne swallowed back her tears. There was nothing beside Marilla's yet. She shook her head, determined not to cry. There were things that needed to be said, first.

"I remember what you used to say, Marilla- that talking to graves served no purpose," Anne said with a shaky laugh. "And yet I always spoke to Matthew- and if you were listening now, you wouldn't be surprised that I'm still talking now. It's- it's been a year now- I don't know how it passed so quickly. And I miss you." As the tears began to fall, Anne's voice trembled. "I'm so sorry that I didn't come home when you asked me to. I was so stubborn- I have been, all along. You never once reproached me for how I behaved, you said I'd best be getting on with my work, rather than getting lost in the woods. I- I don't think I realised how lost I was back then," she said softly. " _You_ did. It took the accident to show me how broken I really was inside." She sighed, studying the early June lilies that grew between the graves. She brushed aside the long grass to reveal the words she had chosen: _Mother of my Heart_. Anne closed her eyes then, her chest aching. "So much has happened, Marilla- I'm- I'm getting married- to Gilbert. In just a few months time. We finally found each other again. And I was so wrong- we both were," she whispered. "I know that you are glad- I know that you loved him. And I know that it hurt you so much to see us apart." Anne drew in a deep breath of the scented forest air, listening to the distant sound of the shore from beyond the fir grove. "It's all very overwhelming, to be completely honest," she said candidly, and suddenly laughed. "Oh, not with Gilbert himself- I would happily marry him as we stand right now. We were always creatures of the wild, Gilbert and I; far more at home in the woods than anywhere else. The wedding itself seems more for the sake of our loved ones. I really must write to Rachel, soon."

Gilbert arrived at the graveyard when Anne had been there for an hour. He turned his head to where he knew Matthew lay, and there she was, sitting on the ground and his heart broke as he walked toward her. He'd wondered if he'd done the right thing in encouraging Anne to come home- her tears the previous night had shaken him, despite his brave words. She didn't turn as he approached her, and he slipped down beside her, pressing a kiss into her red curls.

She was silent for a time, and when Gilbert looked down, she turned into his chest with a shudder. He tucked her into his side with care and held her as she cried. In the quiet of the graveyard, he could hear a lone bird chirping on a branch in the wood and the rustling of grass in the breeze. As he sat with her, he couldn't help but think of the last time he had done this. He closed his eyes with thankfulness as he cradled her to him. He'd not seen his own feelings then- he'd not seen hers. It had been enough to hold her for the sake of the past back then- now he held her knowing that they had a future together. When her breathing had steadied, he rested his cheek against the top of her head and spoke.

"You didn't wait for me," he said lightly.

Anne sighed. "I think I needed to come by myself, at first."

"Do you want me to leave?" He chuckled as her arms shot around him tightly. "I'll take that as a _no_ , sweetheart."

"I was just talking to Marilla."

Gilbert smiled then. "Did you tell her that we're engaged?"

"I did. She would be so happy for us." Anne turned to him then, with a wry smile. "I also told her that this is an awful lot to deal with right now."

Gilbert looked down at her, seeing the same exhaustion on her face that had been there last night. "Oh?"

Anne's shoulders drooped. "Coming home, Green Gables, the wedding, my job, the people involved, the operation-"

Gilbert nodded, and the two of them sat in silence for a time. "Is this all happening too fast, Anne-girl?" he asked, at last.

Anne shook her head, much to his relief. "Not you and I, dearest. It's all of the peripheral things crowding in," she said slowly.

In the peace of the old graveyard, Gilbert nodded. "So, everything _outside_ you and I." He chuckled then. "I feel it at home, too. I'm answering the telephone and filling my appointment book, being told off by my housekeeper for leaving clothes on the floor when I need to leave in a rush- and I'm just waiting to be able to come home to you." He smiled and scooped her up in his arms to place her on his lap, loving the way she nestled under his chin. " _This_ is what matters, Anne. You and me. We've waited too long for each other to lose the next few months to plans and preparations. We have to do it- but for heaven's sake, let's make it as simple as we want."

Anne laughed and kissed his nose, teasing him. "Gilbert Blythe! You mean that you don't want me to have an expensive trousseau, with perhaps a cream silk nightgown trimmed with lace on a highly improper neckl-"

Gilbert's eyes had glazed over at the mention of the nightgown, and he snatched her close to kiss her before she could even finish the sentence. "I take it back, you'd better buy that one at least," he mumbled against her mouth, making her laugh.

After a few minutes, Gilbert pulled back to look at her. "Anne, should we have come back this weekend?" She reached for his face with gentle hands and nodded. Gilbert sighed. "Sweetheart, you're tired- and I don't want to think about how hard this has been on you."

Anne nuzzled into his shoulder. "It was always going to be," she said, her voice soft. "We both knew that. And sooner or later, I needed to face it."

Gilbert pressed his forehead to hers. "But _with_ me."

Anne smiled at him. "With you, dearest."

* * *

That afternoon, Anne and Gilbert sat in the parlour of the Wright home, surrounded by boxes of family belongings. The linen and household goods stood ready to be sent at a later date, and Gilbert placed another box on his lap. They had sorted through photographs and mementoes, and several boxes of Anne's own belongings.

She began to laugh, finding boxes of letters and her own writing, including things Anne had not realised that Marilla had saved.

"Marilla was more sentimental than she allowed, Gil. These were our notes from when we used to study together before Redmond."

Gilbert looked over her shoulder, grinning at the crossed out parts, and his own spiky handwriting in the margins. He turned back to his own pile and opening a small folder, he suddenly stilled. "Sweetheart," he whispered.

Anne turned to see him holding a photograph of herself, and looked up at him in surprise. "What is it, Gil?"

Gilbert looked down at a collection of photographs in tissue paper, amazed. "Anne, this photo- I- I've never seen you like this."

Anne's cheeks heated. "The high school had it's thirtieth-year celebrations two years ago," she explained. "There was quite a lot of publicity, and it was attended by dignitaries from everywhere. The photographers were on the grounds for a week, and they insisted on following us around. And since it also coincided with my being there for five years, they took time to honour that as well. The same portrait of me hangs in the hall outside the Principal's office- next to those of my predecessors, very dignified, stern-looking gentlemen, one and all."

"Well, you certainly belong up there with them." Gilbert looked down at the photograph in his hand. The portrait had captured her beautifully- poised, elegant, with confidence and wisdom in her expression. _This_ was the Anne he had missed knowing. As he looked at the picture, his throat grew suspiciously tight, seeing the authority and strength she had attained in that time. One photo showed her speaking from a large platform, in another she was standing in her office, looking out of the window thoughtfully. Gilbert smiled at the picture the photographer had taken of her in her classroom, seated at her desk with students crowded around her, a little smile on her face. In the last, she stood with her staff proudly on the steps of the auditorium.

Gilbert swallowed, taking her hand tightly in his own. "You look happy here. I'm- I'm glad."

Anne smiled. "As a whole, I was."

He let out a shaking breath, not understanding his own reaction immediately. He spoke honestly, trying to make sense of the jumble in his mind. "It's not that I thought you were pining for me- quite the opposite, actually. But when I saw you again, when I heard that you were hurt, that Marilla had gone and that Summerside had been so hard in the beginning, I imagined that you had known nothing but pain. But that's foolish," he muttered. "Six years was so long to be apart- and I realise that there is so much you did without me. Just look at you here, Anne-girl- you're magnificent. And as much as I am glad that you were happy, for some reason that hurts a bit, too."

Anne drew his curly head down to her, her eyes brimming with tears as she kissed him. "That goes _both_ ways, you goose," she whispered. "Look at everything you accomplished- look at the lives you saved, the beloved friends you made. We _both_ lost that time together. You would have known Summerside, I would have experienced medical school and Montreal through you-"

He pulled away with a snort. "Anne, if we were engaged, I wouldn't have gone to a hospital. I would not have waited to marry you any longer than it took me to graduate." He suddenly smiled. "When we go to Montreal I can show you my time there- just like this glimpse that you've given to me."

Anne studied him, the clear, tender glance that seemed to read his heart. "You were happy there, weren't you, dearest?"

He looked at her for a moment and nodded. "I was. Mostly."

" _Mostly_ ," she repeated. "But always with a sense that something was missing."

"That's it, exactly. Did you ever think of me?" he asked softly, his warm hands sliding up her slender arms.

Anne smiled. "How could I not? You were a part of me. In the beginning I may have fought it, because it hurt too much, but as time went on, I began to let myself remember you- and I allowed myself to keep loving you."

Gilbert's hand slipped into Anne's red curls, and he pulled her to him with an urgency that made her breath catch, caressing her sweet lips with his own hungrily. Her hands tangled in his shirt to pull him even closer then, and he spoke breathlessly. "Anne, I am going to make it up to you- for every single moment we spent away from each other."

"Although _perhaps_ not in my parlour, Gilbert."

The betrothed couple jumped at the sound of Diana's amused voice, and Anne began to laugh at Gilbert's confusion.

"Diana Barry!" Anne scolded, her face mirthful. "You shouldn't embarrass Gilbert like that. _Especially_ since I never teased you about finding you and Fred in the field that day-" At this, Gilbert suddenly burst into a thunderous cough, making Anne only laugh harder.

Diana blushed, and tossed her black head at her friend. "And neither should you, future _Mrs Doctor Blythe_. That was _entirely_ different. Now, if you are quite done distracting me, I should be getting back to my dinner preparations."

As she flounced from the room, Gilbert's eyebrow rose.

"Do I want you to tell me what you saw in that field, love?" he murmured, loving the feel of her slim fingers as she adjusted his collar and tie with a conscious smile.

Anne shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "No, dearest." She bent in close to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing against his ear. "However I feel certain that you will be happy for me to show you sometime."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Early on Sunday morning, on Diana's instructions (and also, she suspected, at Gilbert's insistence) Anne sat in bed with a bountiful breakfast tray and was told to rest for the day ahead. The children ran in and out of the room, and even little Fred perched on the end of her bed discussing a contraption he was building to catch mice in the barn. Anne listened seriously, and the conversation was only interrupted by Jack attempting to fall off the blanket box, aided by small Anne Cordelia. Diana came in soon to take Anne's tray, hustling her children out to dress for the service that morning. She pulled the covers and sat on the side of the bed looking out at a glorious Avonlea spring morning. How right Gilbert was- they needed to come home.

* * *

When the Blythes arrived at church that morning, Gilbert looked around for the Wright wagon, disappointed to see that Anne had not yet arrived. To his astonishment, many people came forward with handshakes and hugs to greet Avonlea's long-absent son. Charlie and his family greeted him pompously, and yet with a sentiment that almost approached warmth. Moody's father grasped his hand, telling Gilbert about his son's parish in the south, and countless other neighbours he had known as a child crowded around Gilbert to hear his story. Sonia Blythe hung onto his arm with obvious pride, and more than one Avonlea matron looked appraisingly at their daughters, wondering if they would catch the eye of the prodigal who had finally returned. A _doctor_ , and so distinguished looking! Well, John Blythe had always been a handsome man….

As Gilbert stood with his mother in a lull near the garden beds, he frowned slightly. "I'm surprised no one has asked about Anne," he said to her quietly. Sonia shrugged innocently.

"Oh, Diana and I felt it best to let the news come out naturally- I'm sure it will spread quickly enough when they see you both together."

"No doubt."

A step sounded behind the pair, and Gilbert turned to see the last person he wished to- the sweetly smiling face of Josie Pye. "What is this, twice in one year, Gilbert? You might want to be careful- people will think you are neglecting your patients."

"Josie," Gilbert said, sounding slightly bored. "I don't leave my patients unless they are appropriately cared for. It _is_ touching that you feel for them though." His mother shot him a pointed look then, and Gilbert rolled his eyes as he tried to recall his manners. "And how is your household?"

Tilting her head in what she assumed was an appealing way, Josie preened. "Well, as a _married_ woman, I am extremely busy, of course. I run the women's sewing circle, and my husband depends on me entirely for his business."

Sonia interrupted what was sure to be a less than enthusiastic reply from her son, and touched Gilbert's arm. "Darling, Diana Wright has just arrived, I really should speak with her before the service. Do excuse me, Josie, won't you." She moved away, eying the red-headed woman Fred was assisting down from the wagon with a mischievous smile.

Gilbert forced himself not to look around, mentally calculating the time it would take her to find him. In the meantime, he turned back to Josie with a piercing look.

"I don't suppose you would remember the last conversation you and I had, Mrs-" he paused, consideringly. "You'll have to forgive me, Josie, I didn't catch your husband's name last time."

Josie's smile grew brittle. "It's _Bourke_ , Gilbert. From a very old and respected family. I suppose the lack of interest you show in your hometown makes you careless of the people you grew up with. It isn't at all good form."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "It's interesting that you would choose to lecture me on manners, _Mrs Bourke_. I wanted to talk to you about that very thing."

Josie's blue eyes grew icy. "I don't think you are any judge of mine, _Mr Blythe_."

"That would be _Doctor_ Blythe, Josie," a clear voice said kindly, bringing a grin to the said physician's face.

As Anne stepped alongside Gilbert, Josie's scornful eyes raked over her form, coming to rest on Anne's innocent walking stick.

"We've known each other since we were children, Anne, I hardly think we need stand upon ceremony now," Josie said acidly. "Well, isn't Avonlea _fortunate_ , to have both of you back home at the same time? One might almost say it was unthinkable."

"It _is_ surprising, isn't it?" Gilbert said brightly. "One might almost say that it was _planned_."

The two of them turned at Josie's cruel laugh then. "Oh, _Anne_ \- don't tell me that you came home because you knew that _Gilbert_ was coming. I find it hard to accept that even _you_ would be that pathetic."

At this, Gilbert's smile faded. "Josie, is this what you've been doing, all these years?"

Josie frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Is this how you've been speaking to Anne whenever she came home?" he said angrily. "What about when she was hurt? Had you no consideration even then?"

Anne's eyes were big, and she placed her hand gently on his arm, seeing the fury on his face. "Gil," she whispered, her eyes on the throng of people moving into the church.

Josie glared at Anne. "Why should I have? You've made everything about you since you moved to this town. I hardly think a slight accident earns you the right to be the centre of attention again."

At this, Anne sighed in exasperation. "That's the problem between us, right there, Josie," she stated. "I wasn't competing with you. I was never trying to take anything _from_ you. You decided that I was a threat all on your own."

"Not to mention that you lied to both of us," Gilbert stated. His hand reached for Anne's and Josie jumped in shock. "You were careless of other people's feelings, Josie- you were thoughtless and often cruel. But even I never thought you would go that far to ruin someone's happiness. You should have respected Anne for her own sake- or been polite for your own- however since that clearly is too much for you, you will watch how you speak to my future _wife_."

Josie's face had gone an odd shade of green. "You- you can't mean-"

Anne spoke quietly. "We both moved to the same town, Josie. Independently. And Gilbert and I began to compare notes- and discovered that some of our misunderstandings stemmed from you." Anne's look was tired, and she found herself being brutally honest with the girl who had once had the power to torment her. "Oh, only a part of it was you- you needn't be so arrogant as to claim all of the responsibility. It reflects poorly on you that we should have known better than to believe a former classmate, Josie. It's even more terrible to think that there is no reason now to believe that you've changed." Most of the congregation had passed through the doors, leaving the three schoolmates beside the steps of the church.

Josie was speechless in indignation, her eyes on the possessive way that Gilbert held Anne's hand.

"I assume my mother will know where you live," Gilbert said apropos of nothing.

Josie recoiled at the odd statement, nodding in her befuddlement.

Gilbert gave Josie the smile he had reserved for his worst pranks through school- the smile that had brought terror to teachers and students alike. "Oh, not for a wedding invitation, I assure you. You seem quite invested in our happiness- I don't see why you shouldn't partake of it." At this, even Anne looked at Gilbert in some alarm. He carried on blithely. "You'll receive a wedding announcement from us. Birth announcements, birth _day_ announcements- anniversary announcements- oh, anniversaries of any kind. Anytime we have something to celebrate, we'll write all about it to you. In fact, just keep an eye out for any mail coming from Glen St Mary. It's sure to be from us." He smiled at his bride-to-be, for just a moment lost in the starry grey of her eyes. "Well, we shouldn't keep you, Josie. I hope you have a pleasant day. _We_ plan to." And before she could turn from them in disgust, he bent down to press a sweet kiss on Anne's surprised lips, taking the time to savour it. He heard Josie give a cry of outrage as she stormed up the stairs away from them, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone outside the old church as the opening hymn began.

"Gilbert _Blythe_!" Anne murmured, her cheeks now scarlet. "You know you shouldn't do that in front of others, let alone someone we have no concern for."

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and together they walked up the stone steps. "I believe that it falls under the category of ' _cruel and unusual punishment_ ', darling," he said thoughtfully, and then gave her a roguish grin. "Andrew's teaching. And besides, who here is foolish enough to believe her?"

Anne couldn't help laughing, and together they walked through the doors of the church.

Several rows behind the Blythe pew, a ruffled Josie stood beside her husband breathing heavily, much too busy examining his fingernails to notice. She breathed deeply. She wouldn't allow the shameless pair to upset her. Anne Shirley was still crippled, and an orphan- if Gilbert could still be duped at his age by that, then it was no more than he deserved.

At that moment, Josie turned at the sound of a cane on the wooden floor. She scowled as Gilbert proudly escorted Anne up the Avonlea church aisle to the Blythe pew, and over the sound of the rusted pipe organ, Josie heard the buzz of whispers erupt around her. Why, it was practically a public announcement!

Diana Wright smiled triumphantly.

Mrs Harmon Andrews shook her head in unflattering surprise.

Mr and Mrs Harrison whispered in excitement, the minister smiled benevolently and Gilbert's parents looked at each other with obvious satisfaction. Josie choked in indignation at the way he took her hand and the utterly shocking look of adoration on Anne Shirley's freckled face. They had no _business_ looking at each other like that after all these years. None whatsoever.

* * *

After a noisy and ebullient luncheon that day, attended by the young Wright family, the Barrys and Gilbert's parents, Anne and Gilbert waved Diana's family from the Blythe homestead. Minnie May had already arranged for her future husband's parents to come to Avonlea for the evening, and Diana had originally assumed that Anne would accompany them- until laughingly, she realised that Anne now had her own future husband's family to stay with. Diana realised with a pang that when Anne came to Avonlea in the future, it would now be Gilbert's family home to which she rightfully belonged. Still, with a little smile she kissed Anne goodbye, telling Gilbert cheekily that she expected him to bring Anne home at an appropriate hour.

Gilbert looked across at Anne now with a smile. The two of them had been shooed from the kitchen by his parents sometime earlier, and were now sitting outside on the back veranda as they had of old. Of course, he hadn't been able to put his arm around her then- her side would not have been pressed to his, her fingers tracing unconscious spirals on his leg. He sighed in contentment, looking out on the apple orchard. One day they would visit with their family- perhaps their children would race up and down the rows of old trees as he once had. Little girls with red curls and all the fire of their mother- boys who somehow combined the mischief of their parents in their lithe forms. Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. He and Anne were a formidable team- and with children like themselves, that would most likely be necessary.

He turned back to Anne, studying her. She had remained close by his side all day- and while he felt that state to be highly satisfactory, he suspected that something else lay underneath. He closed his eyes after adjusting her against him with a smile. He had prepared for this. He was only waiting now for—

"Gilbert darling, your father and I are going for a walk- oh, for _goodness_ sakes, Anne, the poor boy can't even keep his eyes open for an afternoon," Sonia said in exasperation.

Anne laughed, seeing the lazy smile cross Gilbert's face. "I can forgive him for that, Mrs Blythe. He had to work very hard last week."

Gilbert didn't open an eyelid. "Two babies, a burnt hand, a broken femur, nettle rash, nappy rash and teething; oh- and someone threw a surprise party for a man with a newly diagnosed heart condition."

John Blythe chuckled around the pipe in his mouth. "Sounds like your hands are full."

"They certainly are."

Of course, neither of his parents could see the hand that gently squeezed Anne's slim waist at that moment, and they conveniently ignored the blush on her pale cheeks. When the older couple left the gate towards the Haunted Wood, Anne rounded on Gilbert with a twinkle in her eye.

"I knew it wasn't gone, you know." He raised one brown eyebrow at her, and she pulled his hand out from behind her. "I never believed that you had left your teasing days behind you."

Gilbert grinned, pulling her close to kiss her. "How can I help it? _You're_ here."

Anne chuckled at the way he nuzzled into her warm skin. "You can't blame me for your wicked ways, Doctor Blythe."

"Oh, I love it when you call me that," he mumbled, making her laugh again. He kissed both cheeks firmly and pulled away from her with a smile. "I wondered if you would come inside with me, sweetheart."

Anne looked at him in surprise but rose from the chair when he held his hand out to her. They chatted about inconsequential matters as he led her inside the house, and Gilbert walked her through the cozy living room to a door on the right, and it was then that he felt her stiffen beside him. He turned to her, and the two of them stood together in the light that the drapes allowed inside. She didn't speak, however, it was clear that she was uncomfortable.

Gilbert drew her close to him, his hazel eyes holding her own. "Anne-girl, I know this may seem unorthodox-"

Anne summoned a teasing smile then, covering up her anxiety neatly. "Gilbert Blythe, I can think of _several_ very good reasons why I should not accompany you up there- and I am _sure_ your parents would not approve of such cheek."

"I cleared it with them," he said, shocking her entirely. He took her other hand in his warm ones. "We've walked through many hard things, Anne- and I know that you were terribly hurt here. I would like the chance to undo that, if I may."

She shook her head then, grey eyes falling before his. "You don't need to, Gil."

He tugged on her hands then, his look pleading. " _Please_ , Anne. Come with me. Trust me."

After a moment, she nodded, her arms held stiffly by her sides. He tucked her arm through his and opened the door that led to the family bedrooms. Anne hesitated on the first step, although Gilbert couldn't tell whether it was the stairs or the memories that concerned her more. He began a gentle dialogue as he assisted her, wanting to ease her anxiety.

Anne swallowed hard, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. As foolish as it seemed to be where she was, the last thing they needed right then was for her to fall. She was shaking by the time they reached the landing, and Gilbert pulled her into his arms to rest. He smiled into her anxious face. "Ready?"

She laughed shakily. "That depends on where you're taking me, doctor."

For just a moment, Gilbert was serious. "Sweetheart, I'm not keen on there being places that we are afraid to tread. If you will let me, I want to show you the place you were desperately wanted- _needed_ all those years ago. I want you to come here and feel safe." His thumb brushed a tear that fell down her ivory cheek, and he kissed her softly. "Anne, I loved you then, and I love you now. I _dreamed_ of you in my room. And as selfish as this may seem, I want it to be more for us than a place you were barred from by my words."

Anne gave a shaky laugh. All afternoon she had studiously avoided the sight of the door at the foot of the stairs, assuming that in time she would grow hardened to it. "Your parents really sanctioned this?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Oh, not without cautioning me to be a gentleman- but mother understood. She knew it mattered."

To his surprise then, Anne stepped away from him with just a nod. She walked a trifle unsteadily towards his bedroom, and Gilbert watched her, his own eyes moist. Had he ever needed to be as brave as she was?

Anne came to the threshold and looked in, her cheeks flushed. She felt Gilbert come up behind her, placing his hands on her waist. "Welcome to my bedroom," he said with a grin.

Anne looked around her in surprise. "It's a normal room."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "What did you think it would be?"

She laughed, moving to sit down on the bed. Gilbert stayed by the door, unable to keep the delight from his face at seeing her there. "I don't know. It loomed in my imagination, I suppose. A cave in which you were hidden from me- or rather, where you _hid_ from me."

Gilbert walked into the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Well, you can see that it's neither a dungeon nor part of a haunted castle. Just a very, ordinary room."

He sat beside her, and Anne nestled her head on his shoulder. "Has it changed much since then?"

Gilbert looked around with a smile. "Well, bearing in mind that I've hardly been here in seven years, very little. Mother changed the curtains, apparently." He turned his head slightly, tipping her pointed chin upwards to kiss her with a cheeky grin. "Honestly, this is the best moment I've ever spent in my bedroom."

Anne chuckled and gave him an odd glance, her cheeks flushing. "I would have to say the same."

Gilbert's breath left him in a rush, and he reached to pull her close to him, kissing her sweet mouth with passion. He smiled at the way her hands reached for him longingly, her slender fingers winding through his brown curls, and her chest rising and falling with his own. A soft moan left him then, and he pulled her onto his lap, holding her against him and kissing her possessively. After a time a flushed Anne pulled away, her grey-green eyes on him in wonder.

"So _this_ is what you and I are like in love," she said softly.

Gilbert caught his breath, raising one eyebrow as he held her close. "Yes?" he answered, confused.

Anne's cheeks flamed. "I didn't know it would be like this," she answered seriously, for a moment unable to look into the face so near her own. "We talk, we tease- we tease about things I never thought we would, in fact- and I- I didn't know that things between us would be so-" she looked up then and her voice faltered. "-so _passionate_."

Gilbert chuckled. "Anne-girl, you and I were either arguing ferociously or the very closest of friends. It doesn't surprise me at all."

Anne's wistful eyes were on the window, watching apple trees blowing in the breeze. She turned to him with a short sigh. "You don't think us _too_ passionate for a betrothed couple?"

Gilbert's eyebrows flew up. "I don't think so, sweetheart. Is something troubling you?"

She gave a wry laugh. "That's just it, you see. It doesn't at all. I shouldn't be in here- I shouldn't be thinking about you the way I do until we are actually married," she said slowly, not seeing the triumphant gleam in his eyes at her comment. "And when we talk about _later_ , about when we are married, I- I wonder how many people are the way that we are together."

Gilbert's arms tightened around her waist. He began to speak, choosing his words carefully. "I suppose- I've never felt like this before," he said frankly, his hazel eyes falling to her hands. He took them in his own, his fingers tracing the veins on her slender wrists. "I've never known what it is to love you and have you love me back- I've never felt so happy that it terrifies me." His eyes held hers earnestly then. "And it probably makes me unwise in the things I say- perhaps I've gone too far at times."

Anne's eyes flew open in alarm. "I didn't mean that, Gil." She gave a chuckle, her lashes falling onto pink cheeks then. "I think that _I'm_ unwise sometimes," she ventured.

Gilbert sighed. "I wish I could have told you back then how I felt about you. That I loved you- that I _desired_ you, Anne-girl. It was good that I didn't then. But now we are together, I don't want to keep that from you. You seemed so surprised that I felt that way about you- and yet you have to know that I felt it almost before I knew what it meant."

Anne stroked his cheek, a smile playing around her mouth. "This is what I mean- I never knew that it would be like this between us," she whispered. "It still surprises me, Gil. No matter what I imagined there being between us over the years, I never imagined it would feel this way. And it makes me wish that we didn't have so much time ahead of us until we marry." She chuckled, hiding her face against the collar of his shirt. "Nine years apart, and I can't wait three months."

Gilbert snorted. "Why do you think I talk to you the way I do? Neither can I. It's ungrateful to be this impatient." He pulled back to meet her eyes candidly. "I do tease, sweetheart- but I want you to know that I would never dishonour you by acting against your wishes- I would never want to betray the trust you have in me."

Anne silenced him with a long kiss. When she pulled away, her grey eyes were firm. "I know you by heart, Gilbert Blythe. I would never fear that you would. Even if I think I would _like_ to-" Anne stopped herself only just in time, her eyes enormous. "Oh, Gil, this is _exactly_ what I am talking about!" she muttered into his shirt. "I have absolutely no filters with you!"

He snatched her to him with a laugh. "I don't _want_ you to have any with me." He kissed her cheek lightly. "Do you know how many people talk about married love with their spouse?" At this comment, Gilbert only narrowly prevented her from falling off his lap in shock. He smiled at her confusion. "In my work, I confront that all of the time. People won't discuss it, problems never get addressed, and I think too many people are never sure that they are wanted," he said gently. "I don't want that for us. So if you are alright to do so, I want us to keep talking the way we always have. And _soon_ \- so, so soon this will be our reality."

Anne smiled at him, her arms slipping around his neck. "Even if we are the most scandalous betrothed couple of all time?"

Gilbert grinned. "Now that's a challenge worth accepting." He pressed his forehead against hers. "And speaking of our betrothal, before we go downstairs I have something for you."

Anne looked at him in surprise. "Oh?"

He shifted her off his lap, holding her at the waist until she was standing steadily. Leading her to his desk, he pulled out the faded wooden chair for her and smiled as he got down on one knee before her. Out of the drawer beside her, he drew a small, golden ring.

Anne watched in awe as he turned her left hand over, and slid the band onto her finger, the emerald gleam of the stone glinting in the sunlight.

"It's green for your eyes," Gilbert said quietly. "I know you don't care for diamonds, and when I saw this I thought of you. When you walked back into my life, it seemed that I was always watching you- I was trying to get to know you all over again." He smiled then, a beautiful smile that made Anne reach for him. "I began to see that they turn this colour when you look at me. It's a privilege to be loved by you- it's a privilege to know that I will spend the rest of my life with you."

Anne leaned forward to kiss him, her arms slipping around his neck. She pulled away from him after a moment with a smile, pausing to look at the green ring now in place on her finger. "It's beautiful," she said softly, and chuckled with pink cheeks. "Now, as much as I adore doing this, I think that we really _need_ to go downstairs, dearest."

Gilbert grinned at her. "I suppose so. Are you ready? Are our ghosts gone?"

Anne nodded. She looked around then, idly wondering where her walking stick was. Gilbert smiled at the movement. "It's downstairs. I didn't think you needed it when you had me."

* * *

Late in the afternoon, the two of them sat watching the sunlight move through the trees in the apple orchard. Gilbert's mother was busy preparing supper in the kitchen, and John Blythe could be heard in the barn talking to his animals. Under the oldest of the trees, Gilbert's head lay on Anne's lap, and her hand idly traced through his brown curls. "Thank you for bringing me home," she said softly. "I'm glad that we came. We couldn't have done this in a letter."

He caught her hand in his with a smile. "We'll be back at our real home tomorrow," he said thoughtfully. "And that's when the work will begin."

Anne smiled. "Plans for the finish of the school year."

"For Montreal."

"A house," she added, and Gilbert chuckled.

"A wedding, a honeymoon and juggling a busy practice through it all." He stretched his hand up to cup her cheek from where he lay. "So what is it like, Anne-girl?" he asked with a curious smile. "To be in love?"

She gave him a smile that was made of pure happiness, as she bent down to kiss him. "Like being able to fly, Gilbert."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

When the train pulled in to Glen St Mary shortly after midday, Susan was there to meet it with a satisfied look on her round face. Gilbert helped Anne down onto the platform, and she was engulfed in Susan's capable arms immediately.

"It's good to have you home, Anne, dearie. Had you a lovely time?"

Anne looked to Gilbert with a smile. "We did, Susan. Was everything well here?"

Susan chuckled, turning to Gilbert. "That horse of yours is an interesting personality, doctor. He got into the washing, worried Guinevere around the yard, but then turned around and stood over her when it rained."

A peal of laughter broke from Anne, and she turned to Gilbert with a merry look. "He is certainly your horse, darling. Well, they had better start learning to live together, it will be a fact soon enough."

Gilbert grinned. "We'll need to find a barn big enough for the two of them- I'll add that to the list."

After a leisurely tea with Anne and Susan, and a kiss goodbye that slightly scandalised the staid housekeeper, Gilbert saddled Hippocrates. As hard as it was to leave Anne, there was work that he was itching to begin. On the train ride back from Avonlea, while Anne slept against him or dreamed, Gilbert had been scribbling in a notebook that was rarely far from him- usually filled with measurements and symptoms, now with lists and timetables for the months to come. He turned the horse towards his house, impatient to put his plans into action.

* * *

After a week of busy work, Anne farewelled her last student from the doorway to the schoolhouse. She turned back to her classroom, moving up and down the aisles as she straightened untidy chairs and collected books. Anne smiled at the hurried way her students had exited- so close to the summer holidays, she could understand her students' impatience to be done for the year.

Anne dropped into her chair with a thankful sigh. As the fresh wind blew through open windows, she closed her eyes with satisfaction, pausing briefly to rub her stiff ankle. Her year as the Glen's teacher had been a most pleasant one. Her students had shown such promise, and she had seen much of it come to fruition- and next year she would begin preparing the older students for the Entrance exam. Anne smiled at the thought of their eager faces. Gilbert had teased her about the idea of running her own classroom from their home- Rebecca's students would come to their house for extra lessons each afternoon if the board approved- and they _had_.

She smiled wistfully. In a few short months, Anne would hand her beloved class over to Mrs Matthews, who had regained a hope in her eyes that had been missing since the death of her husband. After the board meeting at the cottage the previous afternoon, Susan served Anne and her guest tea while the Matthews children played in the blooming cottage garden.

"Anne, I can't thank you enough for this," Rebecca had said in wonder. "It's more than I ever dreamed. I knew I would need to find work again after Tom died, and I was terrified that I couldn't be there for the children. I hardly considered teaching again, after so long."

Anne smiled. "I'm just as grateful to have you, you know. And we will be working together for some time- it eases my own guilt in leaving the school after only a year."

The woman chuckled. "Not that you'd want to postpone marrying the doctor."

Anne's eyes twinkled. "Absolutely not." A shard of pain hit her then- for the children without their father, for the woman who would trade everything to have her beloved husband back. She closed her eyes at the thought of losing Gilbert- no, she wouldn't wait for anything.

She looked at Rebecca, seeing her face become thoughtful. "Dr Blythe never charged us for Tom's care, you know," Rebecca said quietly. "I tried to pay the bill- and he would never let me do it. He told me to go and buy the boys cookies instead."

"That sounds just like him," Anne said, a gentle smile on her face. "I don't suppose he would tell just anyone this- but he had a sick father when he was a child too." She watched the children pat Guinevere over the fence, loving the sound of their childish squeals. "Oh, I'm so glad for your family, Rebecca- and I believe your family will love the cottage here as well. It's close to the school and wonderfully cosy in the winter."

After the board's decision, the two of them made plans to start work on the following year's curriculum. Gilbert, of course, had known that Anne would not simply walk away and leave Mrs Matthews to cope on her own- neither did he believe that she wanted to. He was relieved himself, for the family's sake. Tom Matthews had been a good man- loving of his family, his wife- he had been worried about them. He and Anne had discussed what an early pregnancy could mean for the transition between the teachers, and Anne had assured him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye that she would listen to her doctor- providing that her doctor listened to _her_ as well.

Her eyes were closed as she relaxed in the still classroom, and Anne completely missed the sound of footsteps coming up the footpath. Before she could stir herself from her desk, she jumped at the door opening, and then looked up into the beaming eyes of her fiancée. Anne hadn't seen Gilbert properly in two days and now threw her arms around him with a glad cry.

"Darling, they said yes!" she said ecstatically.

Gilbert grinned. "I assume to the teaching plan?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Well, of _course_ that, Gilbert. Only last night."

Gilbert laughed then. "Sweetheart, you forget that you've been at work, and so have I- I wasn't privy to your conversation."

Anne scowled at him. "Spoilsport. Well, just give me a few minutes, and we can have a real conversation then."

Gilbert's hands were in his pockets as he watched her move around the classroom. "I stopped by the cottage after my rounds to tell Susan I was collecting you- she's expecting me for dinner tonight."

Anne smiled. "I thought she would- she was terribly disappointed when you had to cancel again yesterday."

Gilbert pulled his hat off with a sigh. "That's what it's going to be like, Anne-girl."

She gave him a twinkling look. "As long as you are coming home to me, I don't mind. And if I know Susan, she will have a meal ready for you at all times."

Gilbert snorted. "That would certainly be different." He moved to wipe the board for her and then turned with a grin. "Mrs Leary spoke to me yesterday, you know."

Anne's eyebrows lifted, and she watched him curiously. "Oh?"

"Well, she scolded me for not being home when I had said that I would be, for leaving my lab coat on the floor when I was called in an emergency, and for not informing her personally that I was to be married soon." There was good humour on his face as he dusted his hands on his trouser legs. "She called it a lapse in etiquette, as she needs several months to prepare the house for my bride, apparently. She heard it from the baker's wife."

Anne was horror-struck. "Gil, you didn't tell her?"

He put up his hands in protest. "In my defence, I've hardly seen her since last week- you know what this one has been like. Apparently, she took offence at me cooking for myself, and decided there was no use in her doing it- if I arrive home at four in the afternoon she's already gone."

"Gilbert, you have to do something about that," Anne protested. "You deserve so much better- especially if you are paying her to care for you."

He sat down on her desk and pulled her close, smiling. "It was my _house_ she was meant to care for, not me, Anne. And I decided that I've been doing fine on my own- so I let her go."

Anne's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yes. I paid her a month's salary, and said-"

" _Prosper and be hanged to you?_ "* Anne quoted cheekily.

This made him laugh. "Well, not in those words- I just said that we had made other arrangements and that our engagement was our business, not anyone else's."

Anne turned and pulled his arms around her, resting back against her desk as well. She smiled at the kiss he pressed against her throat, above the low lace collar she wore. "Well, I'm still sorry, Gil."

"Don't be. Just think of what's coming, Anne-girl."

Of course, what Gilbert didn't tell her was that Mrs Leary had made some acerbic comments regarding Anne herself- thus ensuring that she would be dismissed immediately, in any case. He wrapped his hands around Anne's tiny waist and smiled. Gilbert's week had not spent idly- a chronic patient had required hospitalisation, and two others were displaying the symptoms of scarlet fever. He tended and bandaged his various patients, lecturing about cleanliness and consulting with the Lowbridge doctor about cases in outlying areas. While he worked, however, his mind was rarely far from what needed to be done in the lead up to his wedding.

"Now, I have news for you, darling girl. Come with me to the shore? I think we've earned some alone time before we return for dinner."

Anne blinked slightly. "I would love to. We should tell Susan where we are heading-"

"Done. She knows."

* * *

The shore was breezy with rollicking winds that day, and Anne breathed in the salt air with a smile. She sat down on the sand and removed her shoes and stockings, much to Gilbert's amusement, and sighed in contentment as they looked out towards the afternoon sunshine.

"So I found us a house," Gilbert said conversationally.

Anne turned to him in delight. "That's wonderful, Gil! How?"

His arm came around her waist, and he smiled at the way she reclined against him. "I heard about it only yesterday- Mr Morgan came to see Andrew about selling his late mother's property, and I went to look at it today. It's been empty for some time- and it has plenty of rooms for us to fill," Gilbert teased, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "It has a walled-in garden, an orchard and a grove of trees for my dryad, a big garret, a study for me, not to mention a kitchen that even Susan will adore."**

Anne sighed happily. "It sounds lovely, Gil. And we can afford it?"

He chuckled, then. "More than afford it, actually. People don't want such a large house in the village, so it's going quite cheaply. I have the key to show you through tomorrow if you like."

Anne turned in Gilbert's arms then, impatiently tugging on her skirts to move. As they swirled on the sand around her bare feet, Gilbert's eyes were warm, and he smiled into her earnest face.

"The only stairs I have gone up recently were the ones to your bedroom," she said hesitantly. At the bright grin on his face, Anne covered her flushed cheeks in embarrassment. "You know what I mean, Gil."

Gilbert chuckled, pulling her close to him. "I do, sweetheart. I was only teasing. I went over the place from top to bottom. The stairs are manageable, I think, but I would want to put rails up to assist you- not to mention the little ones who will need some help climbing at first." Anne smiled at the thought, and he continued gently. "However, there is room to extend the house in any way that we need to- including space to build a large bedroom suite downstairs if we wish."

Anne's mouth fell open. "For us?"

He grinned, his eyes loving. "For you and me. We can even put a nursery beside it. It all depends on whether or not you like the house."

Anne studied him with narrowed eyes, her fingers moving to smooth his shirt. "Won't that be terribly inconvenient for you?"

"Well, let's see," Gilbert stated. "Firstly, we already know that I'll be in and out of the house at all times of the day and night." He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped strong arms around her waist. "So, I won't be able to wake the entire household when I come and go, will I? Secondly, my wife will be more comfortable." Broad hands ran up her back, and Anne sighed in contentment. "And lastly, our housekeeper's room will be all the way _upstairs_."

Anne's glance was cheeky. "Is _that_ what worries you? I assure you, that Susan will have her own etiquette when it comes to protecting our privacy- she said as much to me yesterday."

Gilbert grinned sheepishly. "I won't lie, it occurred to me. What did she say?"

Anne giggled then, her arms sliding around his neck. "Oh, that a husband and wife needed their privacy and space- and I quite agree." She sobered then, her eyes wistful. "I'm sorry, Gil. We should have had some time on our own- I would have been the one keeping our house, if-"

Gilbert's voice was firm. "As long as you and I are together, I don't care. Besides, what if it had been me that got hurt?" he asked belligerently. "What if you had found me in a wheelchair? Would you have cared?"

Anne scowled. "Alright, _no_. Only for your sake."

"Thank you. I'm usually right, you know _that_ ," he commented, grinning when Anne tried to swat him. He picked up her left hand in his, the sparkle of his emerald catching the afternoon light. He looked down into the grey-green eyes that he loved. "You are the most precious person in the world to me, Anne," he said softly. "And as to how our lives might have been different- I don't care anymore. You're going to be my wife."

He bent down to press a swift kiss to her lips, however before he could move, she cupped his face in her hands holding him close as her lips caressed his own deeply. The sound of the waves, the airy call of the gulls all faded, and only the sensation of breath, of hands and bodies blissfully moving against each other remained.

Gilbert, at last, pulled away, reaching to touch her lips with a dazed look on his face. "I still can't believe it, Anne. That you loved me all along."

"For many years, Gil- longer than I know, I suspect."

One hand ran up to stroke her waist, and he gave her a wistful grin. "So if I'd had the sense to meet you that night at Andrew's decently- been a little less bitter, a little more the boy my parents raised-"

Anne sighed and smiled herself, her fingers wandering into his thick hair. "You mean if I'd known there was no one else?" She chuckled then. "I might have thrown myself at you, and horrified your friends by kissing you in front of them. Not to mention _you_."

Gilbert began to laugh. "I wish that had happened- just seeing the look on Andrew's face would have been worth it- although I suppose it wouldn't have been fair to him or Penny." He sobered then, seeing a startling look of insecurity flash in Anne's eyes. After a moment, she spoke quietly.

"She could have made you happy, Gil. If I hadn't come here."

Gilbert shook his head in disbelief. " _No_ , Anne. How could she have? I wasn't happy with myself- I'd only have made her miserable as well." He lay back on the sand with a sigh, and Anne rested on one elbow to study him wistfully.

"You made me feel ashamed of myself when you said months ago that you'd never settle," he said in a low voice, and Anne paled. "You'd never marry someone without love. Of _course_ you wouldn't- it isn't who you are." He swallowed, wanting her to know the truth. "But it could very well have been me. I was already at war with myself when you came to Four Winds- trying to move on, but seemingly unable to make a decision either way. Penny was nice- and I thought she liked me." His voice was brittle, and he made himself continue. "I'd already made up my mind that I would ask her to go for a drive or something, that night."

Anne's eyes were huge, and she pulled away from him slightly. "The same night I came?"

Gilbert's smile was bitter, flinching at the hurt on her face. "Oh, I don't know if I would have gone through with it, I'd already slunk away like a coward any number of times. But instead I was confronted with you, and I behaved like a brute." He swallowed hard and gripped the hand that wore his ring. "I don't deserve this, Anne. I'm so sorry."

Anne blinked the tears from her eyes and leant over so that her face was close to his own. "Gil, why do you think I wouldn't settle for Owen, or anyone else?"

"Because you're better than that," he grumbled, his hands caressing her back.

Anne frowned at him, then. " _No_! Because I almost _did_ it once. You know that. You know I didn't love Roy- you know I was beginning to realise it- but I wouldn't back down, either. I kept telling myself that it was foolish to walk away from my ideal. I was willing to go through with it anyway. Why? Because I didn't understand that I was _settling_ , Gil. When he proposed it was like a dash of cold water to my face- and I woke with a vengeance. I'm _not_ better- I'd done it once, and it taught me that I could never do it again."

Gilbert's face had softened. "Anyway, I daresay I didn't look much like a suitor to you at the time."

Anne moved to kiss him then. "Because I was blinded, dearest."

He gave a half smile. "So in Summerside- you never-"

Anne chuckled. "Oh, after a few years I had some space to think about it- not that it went anywhere. You- you were so far from me. I knew there was no chance to repair things then, you were already married."

"I _beg_ your pardon-"

Gilbert smiled at the way her laughter moved through his body. "I meant that I thought you were." She sighed then, her grey eyes distant. "You could say that I considered it in a hypothetical sense- although you can imagine that I was closely scrutinized as a female school principal. The school couldn't afford the gossip, to be honest." She moved up to kiss Gilbert's chin, stroking it with her fingers. "And- I believed that I would simply love you for all time." Anne's cheeks were pink, as she shared feelings that she had never verbalised before. "I imagined that it would hover over you like a benediction through your life- guarding you against evil, dimly felt, although never consciously understood."*** She smiled then. "It was a romantic thought- in what had become a very practical life."

Gilbert raised one eyebrow. "I can't imagine that lasting with you, Anne-girl."

"It _didn't_. You brought romance back to my life again."

"You made me come alive again, period," Gilbert said with a grin. "I was quite cross at you for that- you were so different to the girl I remembered, but nevertheless still the girl who could slap me awake again."

"I never actually slapped you, Gil." Anne reminded him cheekily. She was silent for a moment then, and suddenly frowned. "Do you still think me so different?"

Gilbert chuckled, but his look was tender. "No. Although you have changed- we both have. But somehow you are still the Anne I've always loved, too."

"Perhaps you and I have simply grown up." Anne rested her head on his shoulder, and his hands tucked her in close to his side. "I wanted to dislike Penny for her proximity to you," she admitted. "But you simply can't. She was lovely, and she became a friend- even when I thought you were together. I could hardly have blamed you for liking her- I liked her myself."

Gilbert laughed then. "I know. But she didn't love me, and I didn't love her. Your arrival showed me that I wasn't over you in the slightest- however hard I worked to deny that." He gave her the twisted smile that made her heart beat faster. "Besides, Penny figured out what was happening between you and I quite early- and set to work pushing us together."

Anne smiled. "I confess that her tactics quite escaped me at first."

Gilbert shifted her to sit up then with a contented look. "It would have happened anyway, Anne-girl. It's always been you and me."

When the wind on the shore began to pick up suddenly, Gilbert looked around them with a start. "Does that look like rain?" he asked, frowning.

Anne got to her feet with his assistance and looked out to the horizon. "I think so- although I haven't been able to get to know this shore so well as I would have liked," she said good-humouredly. "Shall we go, dearest?"

Gilbert bent down to pick up a laughing Anne, and the two of them made their way back to the buggy, shaking the sand from their clothing, and with Gilbert running back to find Anne's missing shoes and stockings.

* * *

Gilbert left Anne at Rosewood Cottage while he went home to freshen up, and returned in due course; tidy, and followed by a beaming Andrew. While Anne was surprised to see him, Andrew insisted gravely that his company would prove most valuable.

Gilbert smiled as he took in Anne's fresh dress. More ornate than she usually wore for school, he studied the floral gown, flounced and laced to perfection on her slim figure. Before they could enter the dining room, he reverently touched the short, puffed sleeves. "It's pink," he said in satisfaction.

"It _isn't_ ," Anne protested, beginning to blush. "It's a rosy kind of purple-"

He laughed. "You can't pretend that's not pink, sweetheart. I always hoped you would cave one day- and I was right. It suits you."

"Doctor Blythe, I never knew you spent so much time thinking about my clothing," she muttered, ignoring the raised eyebrow that belied her words. She led the way into the small room to lay the table, while Andrew chatted with Susan in the kitchen. Gilbert watched Anne with a smile on his face.

"I found it in a small boutique in Summerside, shortly before the end of my fifth year teaching," Anne said consciously. "It was so pretty- and the white roses made it a little less pink, I hoped. I thought I would see how well it fitted- and much to my consternation, it was perfect." She chuckled, passing Gilbert the cutlery to lay beside the plates. "I must have driven the seamstress slightly mad- I kept coming in just to look at it. In the end, she told me that every woman should know how to break the rules- and encouraged me to break one of my firmest over this gown." She laughed then. "I put it on so many times without wearing it, Gil- it took me weeks to get up the courage to wear it to church."

"And people would have loved it on you," Gilbert said with a grin. "I don't suppose you were subconsciously rebelling against society, were you?"

She shrugged her shoulders at Gilbert with a twinkling look. "Perhaps. I had just come from a meeting of the Summerside school board if I remember correctly- and they often had a contrary effect on me."

Gilbert laughed, pulling her close. "In that case, I'm extremely pleased with the effect. I hope you do it again."

After Anne and Susan had settled their guests in the sitting room after dinner, Andrew turned to the women with a smile. "Thank you for allowing me to invite myself for dinner this evening- I had a letter from my family that I wanted to talk to you both about. Firstly, my parents send you good wishes on your engagement, Gil, heartily echoed by Penny- three pages worth, in fact-" he said dryly. Anne chuckled, having received her own overflowing letter from her some days earlier. "I took the liberty of speaking to them about your upcoming trip to Montreal- and while I know you haven't yet made definite plans, my parents have asked that you would stay with them."

Anne blinked in shock. "Andrew, they don't know me-"

"No, but they know Penny and I quite well," he replied with a wink. "And so they love you by extension. They don't live far from the hospital, and are aware that you will need some time to recuperate afterward- Penny is just about wild with excitement. My father will be terribly disappointed if he can't also show you some of his beloved city, he has offered to give you both the tour personally."

Gilbert's lip twitched. "Even though I once lived there?"

Andrew gave him a severe look. "And you never saw any of the sights, did you? That's a crime in my father's book."

Gilbert grinned sheepishly, but soon became businesslike. "So they would like Anne to stay there-"

"No, they want both of you," Andrew corrected. "For however many weeks you will be in the city. The house can accommodate as many guests as are needed, and one of the suites is on the ground floor. And then we come to the thoroughly brilliant side of the plan." He grinned at the young pair then. "I promised Penny that I would visit home this summer- why shouldn't Lizzie and I go at the same time as the two of you?"

Anne looked at Gilbert in surprise. "But- Andrew, are you- would you be able to leave your practice at any time?" she asked him, bewildered. "We need to wait on Doctor Barnes, I should imagine."

Gilbert spoke up then. "He sent me a list of dates to choose from, Anne, it's up to us. I'm to call him when we decide on one."

Andrew relaxed in his chair with a sigh. "My parents have been at me to come home at least once a year- something I haven't managed to do in the past three. I'm due for a break- and Lizzie will be able to meet some of her cousins for the first time."

Anne looked to Susan. "Susan, dear, what do you think?"

Susan put her knitting down with a genuine smile. "Well, it would be real good to know that you are going somewhere comfortable, Anne."

Anne smiled at her understandingly. "And if we travel with Andrew and Lizzie, you would be able to remain here."

Susan's look of relief was obvious to all. "I've never crossed the strait yet- I'm just as content for it to stay that way. And we have two households to clean and ready for the wedding, and another house to prepare for, so there is plenty of work to be done in the meantime." She nodded approvingly at the doctor's contented smile. "The Morgan house is a fine one, Anne dearie, make no mistake about that- and that pantry is a sight to be seen. Marcella Morgan was a great one to entertain, and her house was considered quite modern when it was built."

Anne smiled. "We'll look at it tomorrow, Susan. Are you sure you don't mind us leaving you here? That is, if Andrew and Lizzie are willing to be our chaperones, of course," Anne teased, making Andrew laugh.

"You two may yet find yourself minding _me_ ," Andrew said with an impudent look. "A holiday may well make me forget that I'm supposed to be a grown-up. So what do you both say? Will you come?"

Anne met Gilbert's eyes, and she nodded with a smile. Gilbert turned to Andrew gratefully. "Please thank your parents and Penny for us; we accept. I look forward to seeing them again."

Andrew grinned. "They'll be thrilled." He narrowed his eyes at Anne then. "Now, has my sister said anything to you about young Doctor Barnes at all lately?"

Anne chuckled. "Andrew Winston! You wouldn't expect me to tell you if she _had_ , would you?"

His look was charming. "Perhaps not. But the omission is significant, I think. Besides, Dad took him golfing last week."

Gilbert's eyebrow flew up. "Is that important?"

"Oh, he doesn't take just anyone golfing- he must think something of him."

"I think the question is does _Penny_ think something of him," Gilbert commented and laughed. "It would be quite something to see Montreal's most eligible bachelor in love."

"Well, we will see soon enough." He shot Gilbert a curious look- and it was Penny's big brother who spoke then. "Would you trust him with your sister?" he asked his friend quietly.

Gilbert smiled. "I'd trust him with my life- and I _am_ trusting him with Anne's. If the two of them should learn to care for each other, I should consider them both very lucky indeed."

* * *

*Quote from Emily's Quest, by L.M. Montgomery- anachronistic, yes, but it always made me laugh.

**Descriptions of Ingleside from Anne's House of Dreams

***L.M. Montgomery, The Schoolmaster's Letters.


	34. Chapter 34

**It feels longer than a week… For those of you who wished this story might go on forever- at this pace, it just might! Thank you all for your continued reading and reviews, they brighten my day considerably! and also for those reading my other stories in teh absence of updates on this one! I confess that I had only fragmented ideas about Montreal, but you were so excited about it… hence a week of working on this around other projects, and trying to come up with things of interest about a place I have never been! I appreciate your giving your time to this, and I hope you enjoy the countdown to Anne and Gilbert's happily ever after.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 34**

On the last day of school for the year, Anne stood with Rebecca and her students outside in the sunshine. The board members had come to the small assembly, explaining that Miss Shirley and Mrs Matthews would share the job of teaching in the following year, elaborating on their wish that the excellent record the school would only grow stronger. Rebecca was formally introduced, and a small present was given to Miss Shirley on behalf of the school in honour of her approaching nuptials. The courtyard now was filled with children in their summer best, and every parent who was able to be present was- owing largely to the lavish afternoon tea the Women's Auxiliary had provided, courtesy Mrs Cornelia Elliot.

The older woman made her way through the happily chattering crowd to the teacher's side, pausing to look out on the scene with satisfaction.

"Well done, Anne dearie," she said stoutly. "You've done wonders with this class, I can tell you."

"The children did have a good year- I will miss it, I believe." Anne laughed wryly then, reaching down to disentangle her green skirts from the walking stick. "Although may I tell you a secret, Miss Cornelia? This is the most exhausting year I have ever had."

Miss Cornelia watched her carefully. "Might that might improve after the operation?"

Anne smiled at the motherly concern in her voice. "In truth, I don't know. The children do need someone more active in the long term- Rebecca will do marvellously with them."

Miss Cornelia sighed. "And you and the doctor will be married. It's quite romantic, Anne dearie. And to think you and the doctor met when you were only children!" Her eyes were beady as she surveyed the men and women gossiping by the fence. "And I dare say you won't miss teaching for long- this time next year, you and the doctor could have your own little ones to think about."

Anne smiled, a warm spiral running through her at the thought of a baby. "I do hope so," she said softly.

Rebecca came over to Anne with her youngest child in her arms, her eyes twinkling. "Anne, I just spoke with Mrs Brewer-"

Anne gave a wry laugh. "Why is Jack so much further ahead in reading than her daughter?"

"That's the one," Rebecca said brightly. She had been besieged with well-wishers after the assembly, many Glen folk not having known about her qualifications as a teacher. "I did explain to her that she needs to see an oculist about Millie, however, she only protested that her family have never needed glasses before." She worried her lip, looking at the young girl happily playing with her friends under the trees. "Do you suppose the doctor could persuade her?"

Before Anne could respond negatively, Miss Cornelia gave a decisive nod. "Oh, don't worry him about that. I'll have a quiet word with the family."

When Rebecca moved off to chase her eldest child, Susan came to stand near Anne with a sigh. "They all think you've done wonderfully, Anne. And I've had at least eight queries on when the wedding will be."

Anne laughed. "Soon enough, Susan- although not nearly soon enough for _me_."

Miss Cornelia and Susan had begun to make plans for the summer wedding, and for the organization of the new house. The trip to Montreal would eat into much of their preparation time, and Anne and Gilbert had been happy to turn it over to those they trusted most- all of which, Gilbert had said cheekily, left them much more time to simply be together.

Miss Cornelia adjusted her hat in the breeze. "Is it all set when you are to leave, Anne?"

Mentally counting the days, Anne sighed in relief. "Next week- Monday night, I believe. I am glad- waiting around for it would be quite painful."

Susan clucked anxiously. "I do wish you had a little more time to rest, Anne. I wonder if the doctor-"

Anne stopped her with a loving look. "Gilbert knew that I was anxious about it, Susan. And the sooner it is over, the sooner we can set the date for the wedding."

Susan sighed. "Just as you like, Anne dear. Now-" She turned to the gate, to see Gilbert arriving, his eyes on the red-head beside her. She couldn't stop her amused smile. "Well, there he is now. If he wants you to go for a walk, later on, remember to bring a shawl."

* * *

Within days of this conversation, Susan was yet again farewelling Anne on the platform. Her brow was creased, however, she refrained from warning Gilbert to look after Anne this time. Instead, she asked them to telephone her after the operation was completed, and held on to Anne's gloved hand tightly. Andrew stepped in at this point, assuring Susan that his parents would be happy for Anne or Gilbert to call her whenever she would like. Anne reassured her that all would be well, cleverly diverting her with a comment about what cleaning Gilbert's present home might be like- this was the task Susan had chosen to complete while they were away. Susan huffed immediately, muttering comments about Mrs Leary's many shortcomings as a housekeeper- and making Gilbert laugh when she hinted that his mother would be furious that she had refused to cook for him.

"I see you really have met my mother," he said, amused. "Don't worry. You might be surprised at how well I've kept the house."

The farewells began in earnest now, and Susan saw Anne and Gilbert seated opposite Andrew and his daughter on the train with a sigh of relief. As it moved away from the siding, Susan wiped an unacknowledged tear from her cheek, her chin jutting out stubbornly. She had a month until Anne would be at home again, and she planned to use the time to the best of her ability.

* * *

"Are we there yet, Papa?" a little voice said with a heavy sigh that made the couple across the seat from her chuckle.

Andrew Winston rubbed a hand over his tired face and met Gilbert's twinkling eyes. "Do you see a city, little duck?"

Lizzie scowled, utterly ruining the angelic look her blond curls gave her. "No."

"Do you see a giant train station and a steamship that we will board?"

" _No_ , Papa."

"Then clearly, we are not there yet."

Anne chuckled, smoothing the mint green skirt of her travelling suit. "It isn't far to Charlottetown now, Lizzie. We will have some dinner first, and then we will board the boat in the evening. Won't that be fun?"

"Can I have ice cream for dinner?"

"This is all your grandpa's fault, you know," an amused Andrew replied. "He does spoil you when he comes to see us."

"I know. I like it," the child said solemnly, making her father laugh.

Andrew smiled then, as Lizzie snuggled up by his side. His parents were beside themselves to know that they would have their son and granddaughter at home with them for almost a month- and to host Anne and Gilbert was an added blessing, as far as they were concerned.

"Is young Doctor Shelby set up for the month, Gil?" Andrew now asked.

Gilbert grinned. "He's no infant, Andrew. He's a respectable twenty-five, I'll have you know. Top of his class, and going into a practice in his hometown in September- he wanted to get some work in before tackling the people he grew up with- something I avoided, thank heavens."

"However did you find him, darling?" Anne asked curiously.

"I have good contacts. I'm in touch with Redmond throughout the year- and I asked the head of the medical school if anyone would want to spend the summer in Four Winds as my assistant. Bruce will supervise him as necessary, I'll work with him for a month or so after we come home- and by that time he should only require minimal supervision while we are away on our honeymoon." Gilbert sighed, resting back against the seat contentedly. "My patients will have proper care, the practice won't suffer- I get to be with you, Anne, and can look forward to the first holiday I have had since our first year of college. As a bonus, Shelby earns enough to set up his new practice with the equipment he needs. It's perfect."

Andrew chuckled. "Unless your patients don't like him- or they decide they like him better."

Gilbert shrugged, his hazel eyes twinkling. "It's why I asked Mrs Elliot to board him- if she likes him, he's safe in the community. And she adores Anne- so I'm safe by extension."

Andrew gave his curly headed daughter a loving look and pulled her close to his side. "Miss Cornelia- she _was_ Miss Cornelia then- she knew Maddie when she was Lizzie's age- and she was sceptical enough about me when I first came. When Maddie became ill though, there was nothing she wouldn't do for us- she seemed to be always over at the house, scolding me and helping."

Lizzie sat up and looked at her father curiously. "Are you talking about mama?"

Andrew smiled, his eyes showing some lingering hurt. "Yes. Mama's name was Madeline."

"I knew _that_ ," she said pragmatically. "I found some letters that you sent Mama, and you called her that- and you called her your _angel_ -"

Andrew choked slightly at this extraordinary revelation. "You found our letters, Lizzie?"

The little girl scratched her nose in perfect unconcern. "A whole box of them, Papa. And Mama wrote some of them, and she used to call you a prince, and some other name that sounded like a horse, but I don't think-"

At this, a hand was clapped over Lizzie's mouth, and a wild-eyed Andrew bent down to interrupt the flow of talk while Gilbert slumped against the seat in a fit of laughter.

"Lizzie, what do you say we see if the tea room serves ice cream?" her father asked desperately.

A sudden squeal and Lizzie had forgotten all about terms of endearment, and Andrew stood up and led his daughter away from the couple, his eyes anywhere but on his friend's.

Back in their seat, Gilbert wiped his eyes chuckling. "I swear that I see her, Anne, and I see a little version of you. I should very much have liked to have known her mother."

Anne tucked her head against his shoulder and sighed. "As would I." She was silent for a minute and looked out of the windows bathed in the afternoon light. "Gil? What happened to Madeline?"

Gilbert shifted her so that she could rest against him more comfortably, and it took some time for him to answer. "Consumption."

Anne's eyes closed. "Like Ruby," she said softly.

"Yes. Like Ruby." He sighed, holding her closely. "I don't know what I would do- if- if you-"

Her hands came up to frame his face then. "We're more aware than most, I suppose," she said softly. "We know what it is to be apart. But now- for now, Gilbert- we need to be thankful for every moment we have together. Every one. All of the arguments, the tears, the times we are frustrated with each other- for better or worse."

Gilbert smiled at her. "In sickness and in health-"

"For as long as we both shall live."

He pressed a kiss to her willing lips and then chuckled. "Are you sure that doesn't count as us saying our wedding vows, sweetheart? I'm ready if you are."

"To quote Andrew, are we surrounded by loved ones? Is your mother crying in the front row, closely followed by Diana? Am I wearing the most beautiful gown I have ever worn?"

He shrugged with a grin. "I always think so."

She laughed. "I admit that it would be lovely to just skip all of the fuss and be together- however those around us have waited for a long time. We can do this for them." She stroked his chin, her eyes twinkling. "This used to baffle me so, Gilbert."

"My chin baffled you?" he teased.

"We became friends at a fairly interesting developmental period, don't you think?" Anne asked.

Gilbert's eyebrow flew up then drolly. "I have no idea where you are going with this, darling."

"Do you remember the years we spent teaching?"

"Just how poor a memory do you think your future husband has?"

Anne lifted her hands in laughing protest. "It _was_ interesting, Gil. We had just come from school days ourselves- we were teachers, and looking to become students again eventually. We used to talk about us needing to make up five years."

Gilbert simply waited, knowing that at some point her line of thought would make sense.

"We tumbled about like children," Anne mused, as his fingers gently rubbed her shoulder. "You would wear clothes that I associated with our school days, and in so many ways you were still a schoolboy to me. I suppose that was why I was so comfortable with you initially." She chuckled then, her hand on his jaw. "But in the evenings- I would notice this on you." He smiled as she stroked the stubble on his chin, and giggled. "It belonged to a man- and I wasn't comfortable putting you in that box yet."

Gilbert chuckled. "That was your problem with me? I wasn't staying a boy?" he teased, and she nodded.

"Gil, I was barely handling the changes that I had to deal with- let alone accept that my best friend was becoming a man. And really, you were that already."

His smile was boyish then as he regarded her. "So you didn't want me to grow up."

"I didn't want _any_ of us to grow up," Anne said candidly. "You remember how poorly I handled Diana and Fred becoming engaged."

"I do." He looked at her curiously. "Still, you seem to have made your peace with him over the years."

Anne smiled. "He welcomed me on Diana's behalf- and always made a space for me in their family. I don't know what I would have done without Fred and Diana after- after Marilla died," she said slowly. "I had a house, but no home. They gave me that."

Gilbert pulled her close, a look of regret on his face. "Anne, should I have stopped you from selling Green Gables?" She looked at him in surprise, and he gave her a sad smile. "You could have kept the house, sweetheart. You didn't need the money."

Anne turned to him, her eyebrows raised. "You didn't push me to sell it, Gilbert. I chose to do that. And while it is true that I didn't expect to be getting married, I still believe that selling it was the most logical choice." She looked at him with a sigh then. "Besides, if I held onto it, what were my choices? To leave Four Winds, leave _you_?"

"That was a factor?" he asked with a smile, and she laughed.

"You _know_ that it was. The Williams family is settling well into Avonlea- and Diana said they have repaired the house beautifully." She swallowed then, and Gilbert rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Did you want to go and see it sometime?" he asked gently. She didn't look up, and Gilbert sat unmoving, waiting for her response.

"I'm glad for them but- I don't think I'm ready for that, yet," she said in a soft voice. "Not now."

He pressed a kiss to her red hair and sighed. "Whenever you are, we'll go," he whispered.

"Thank you, Gil." She was quiet then until a chuckle broke through. "Besides, I have a feeling I will be spending quite a sum of that money while we are away."

Gilbert then pushed her back from him, his hands on her shoulders. "Now just why would you think _that_?"

Anne watched the stubborn set of his brow and her mouth quirked. "Because I have an operation coming up, dear. I have a trousseau to buy-"

"I told you that _I'm_ paying for the operation."

"You are _not_ -"

"Am _so_ ," he said, his voice calm. "I told you that I wanted to do that."

"And I said _no_."

Gilbert had had too much experience arguing with Anne to give up so easily and gave her a stern look. "Anne, I'll give you the trousseau, but as far as the operation is concerned, I'm doing this."

Anne scowled at him. " _Blythes_ ," she muttered. "Marilla was right about you, you know. A stubborn offshoot of a stubborn breed."

He had to laugh then. "And you'll be one soon enough." He faced her squarely, eyeing her carefully. "What really bothers you about me paying for it?"

She huffed a little, and finally sighed, gesturing to her walking stick. " _This_. This happened while we were in exile-" he snorted at the term she had chosen and Anne rolled her eyes at him. "-while we were so far apart. Why should you pay for my foolish mistake?"

Gilbert bent down to look into her eyes. "Now look here, we _both_ paid for foolish mistakes, Anne. An accident is just that- it wasn't your fault." His jaw clenched, and he took her hands in his own. "And I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm selfish. I hate that it hurt you- but _it brought you back to me_. I would pay that ten times over for the privilege of being the one who gets to be with you. I don't care. I'm doing it."

Anne looked at him for long minutes, her grey eyes piercing. Eventually, she sighed and nodded. "Alright."

Gilbert suddenly grinned and kissed her on the cheek. "You've mellowed, you know. When we were younger, you would have argued me until the sun went down."

"Then let us be thankful that _this_ is the Anne you are marrying," she said cheekily, as she pulled him close to kiss him again. This was halted abruptly at a disparaging noise which made them pull back in blushing confusion. Lizzie's serious face was behind them, and Anne smiled sheepishly at Andrew's amused look.

"Billy Slater said that you can get germs from doing that," she said dubiously. "Did you know that, Doctor Blythe?"

* * *

The stopover in Charlottetown for the boat was a whirl of activity. A tired and grumbling Lizzie was hustled through a meal at a restaurant near the water, and it was a relieved Andrew who saw his daughter to the room that she and Anne would be sharing for a few hours of sleep- or so he hoped. The night was a clear one, and the water as they steamed away from the harbour was like glass in the moonlight. Andrew and Gilbert sat out on the deck in the fresh air talking. The late crossing had been rendered necessary to catch the appropriate trains, and Gilbert was looking forward to the promise of a proper bed to stretch out on, on the midnight train from Nova Scotia to Montreal.

As Andrew puffed away contentedly on a cigar, Gilbert sat looking out on the same water he had crossed so many times before and smiled. He'd never crossed it like this before. Anne had been tired but cheerful as she made her way to the room with Lizzie, and he had watched her go, euphoria bubbling up inside. A year ago- even six months ago he could not have pictured being in this place with Anne Shirley. Now, he looked up at the bright starlight, remembering starry skies that had swirled and burned above them. When he had ached to tell the girl who lay on haunted fields beside him that he loved her, ached to show her with his hands and his body that he adored and would cherish her always. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes with thankfulness. Soon- so very soon.

* * *

When the train from Halifax to Montreal finally arrived at the Windsor Street Station, it was mid-morning on Wednesday. Andrew stepped off the train onto the familiar station with great thankfulness, bringing his six year old daughter to stand beside him- after a completely unexplained storm of tears just five minutes earlier. Anne had declared that she could easily join her after two days of travelling. In vain Gilbert had tried to distract Lizzie with games to pass the time, and Miss Shirley had spent the past day and a half telling stories; shooing away a concerned Gilbert to walk up and down the train with the little girl while her father took a nap in his berth. Andrew grinned. He had a feeling that Anne needed to stretch as much as Lizzie did- and he had been quite amazed at the number of people the 'girls' met in their travels.

Now, as the steam from the train began to clear, Andrew, at last, saw Penny waiting on the platform with her father, and with a happy cry, she ran to them both, catching her niece tightly in her arms. The commotion was all around them, and Lizzie had her aunt in a hug so tight that she didn't bother trying to separate herself from the girl. Instead, her brother hugged the two of them, turning to greet his father while Penny wiped away happy tears. For a few minutes, the family stood together talking over each other, and it was Penny who finally turned to look for Anne and Gilbert.

A lump came to her throat, as she saw the two of them standing off to one side, allowing the family to greet each other in private. She watched Gilbert place an arm around her waist, his eyes twinkling at something Anne must have just said. He bent to kiss her cheek, no doubt taking advantage of a city of unknown people. The intimate manner between them made her jaw drop slightly, and Penny found herself wanting to laugh at the besotted look on the couple's faces.

With a jolt, she turned back to her niece to hear what she was saying.

"They keep doing that," Lizzie commented, screwing up her little face in contemplation. " _Kissing_. Papa says it's because they're in love. Do people in love _have_ to do that?"

Penny did her best not to blush, as a certain moonlit walk from the previous evening came to mind. "Oh- well, yes, Lizzie, I suppose they do. Shall we go and say hello to them now?"

"But I already _saw_ them-"

In another moment, Penny had reached Anne and met her warmly with a hug, declaring that happiness suited her entirely. Gilbert was greeted as well, and Penny drew her father near to introduce him to their guests. Penny smiled as his old-fashioned courtesy took over, and he welcomed Anne with a fatherly warmth that at once made her relax.

"Miss Shirley, Penny has not stopped talking about you since she arrived home," he said with a smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear. May I call you Anne? Such a lovely name- my sister's, in fact. And so you are the woman who has caught the young doctor's eye! Doctor Blythe, why did it have to take you so long?" he said reproachfully, and Gilbert glanced down into the warmth of Anne's grey eyes.

"Sometimes the right things just need to line up," Gilbert said lightly, making the older man chuckle.

"That's how you win a woman's heart, son- it's good to have you both with us."

Gilbert grinned. "Thank you, sir. I can't thank you enough for opening your home to Anne and I."

Mr Winston viewed the red-headed young woman benevolently. "And you are my granddaughter's beautiful teacher as well! You were all Lizzie could talk about when we were on the Island in the New Year."

Anne's eyes twinkled at him. "And she has told me much of you as well, Mr Winston- she informed me that you are her very favourite grandfather."

He shouted with laughter at this, eying Lizzie proudly. "I'm the _only_ one, I'm afraid- but I will take the compliment nonetheless. And are you prepared to see some of Montreal while you are here?"

Anne smiled. "We certainly are, sir. I assure you, that Gilbert is quite eager to make up for his lack of sightseeing in the past."

The older man leant toward her solemnly. "He's never seen the Basilica, my dear. It does concern me." He patted her hand fondly, turning to look at his son in apparent disappointment. "You couldn't have met this lovely young lady first, Andrew?"

Anne choked slightly, and Andrew snorted with laughter.

"Err- no, father. Gilbert beat me squarely- he and Miss Shirley met when they were children."

Mr Winston gave a hearty laugh and clapped Gilbert on the shoulder. "Aye, so that's his secret! Ah, well. Now, we'd best be going. Miss Shirley, may I offer you my arm while Andrew and Doctor Blythe get the luggage?"

* * *

After a bewildering first day, it was nearing ten at night when Penny showed Anne to her suite on the ground floor at the house, a big smile on her face as she took Anne's arm.

"My parents adore you, Anne- and I feel selfishly glad that your operation means that you can be here for a month. We are going to have a marvellous time with all of us here."

Anne sat on the edge of the large four poster bed, looking around at the comfortable room with pleasure. "It's lovely Penny- and your parents are simply delightful." She had watched the affectionate way that the parents were around their children, and a little shard of equal pleasure and pain was felt- for the parents she herself had never known, and for the parents that she and Gilbert hoped they would become one day.

She could hardly keep back a yawn, and within minutes Penny had summoned a maid to help Anne dress in her nightgown and robe, and Anne soon sat on the side of the bed braiding her hair back. A knock came on her door then, and the maid opened it to Louisa Winston who stood in the doorway, her voice soft.

"Anne dear, Gilbert has asked if he may check on you- he is a touch concerned about your foot after travelling so far."

Anne swore she could detect amusement in the woman's face, however, she nodded bashfully, and an equally affected Gilbert was soon summoned to the room. Louisa busied herself in checking that Anne had all she required, as Gilbert stepped past the maid hanging up Anne's gowns, his black bag in hand.

Anne's cheeks were heating as he sat down in the chair by the bed. "Are you coming up with excuses to come in here, Gilbert?" she muttered, and he chuckled.

"I _am_ still your doctor, sweetheart- and you are after all in Montreal on my recommendation. It is, however, a good excuse to say goodnight to you."

Anne nodded and sat back on the bed for Gilbert to check her ankle. His look was thoughtful, and he sighed as he saw the telltale swelling. Anne gave Louisa an apologetic smile when she stepped behind Gilbert in concern, taking in the slight bruising on her guest's foot.

"Do you need anything for her, Doctor Blythe?"

He shook his head. "I think we should wrap it for the night- possibly tomorrow as well. I have the bandages right here." He directed his frown back at Anne then. "Was this hurting you today, and you didn't tell me?"

Anne shrugged innocently, making Louisa Winston smile. "I couldn't feel it, to be honest, Gil-"

He pulled a pillow from the other side of the bed and propped her foot upon it, his look amused as he began to wrap. "I suppose you think that is some kind of justification."

"Gil, I am fine," Anne said seriously, stopping him for a moment. "It was a long day, and a long trip- but we are here now. You did say this might happen."

Gilbert sighed, tucking the last piece of the bandage in with a smile. He then brushed the hair back from her face. "I know that."

As the maid curtsied and left the room, Louisa 's hand was on Anne's shoulder. "Well, I am glad you were here, doctor. Anne, please ring the bell for Sally if you need a hand through the night- she is only too happy to assist you. You do remind me of Penny, dear- as a girl I could never keep her in bed if she was unwell." She straightened up with a twinkle in her eye. "Now, Gilbert, I believe that I will wait outside for you for just a minute- just _one_ , mind. Anne does need her sleep."

The door closed behind her, and Anne and Gilbert both began to laugh. "Mrs Lynde wouldn't dream of showing you that kind of trust, Gilbert- although Diana might, perhaps."

"I'd better make the most of it then." He bent over her to kiss her then, his hazel eyes darkening. "Please tell me if you're hurting, Anne."

Anne cupped his face in her hands, her eyes studying him lovingly. "Aside from a small twinge, I'm _not_. We're here, now, beloved. We have four weeks together- to rest and recover, and then only another month until we marry. You need to stop worrying."

Gilbert's shoulders dropped, knowing she was right. "I'll try." He grinned then, bringing his face close to kiss her again. "Now as I figure it," he mumbled against her lips, we have half a minute left to say goodnight. Don't you think we'd better-"

The rest of his words were cut off as Anne pulled him into her embrace, and with her lips on his she could tell that he was smiling.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Gilbert walked into the breakfast room the next morning to greet Anne with a kiss on the cheek, taking his place beside her. Lizzie was on her grandfather's knee behind his paper, while Louisa and Penny discussed their plans for the week ahead. Andrew, Gilbert knew, rarely had a chance to sleep in, and was taking full advantage of his family to keep Lizzie occupied while he did so. He turned to Anne then with a smile, loving the brightness of her hair above the rich green of her dress. She smiled back cheekily, and forestalled him with a hand on his mouth.

"Good morning, dearest. _Yes_ , I am fine. Yes, I slept delightfully. I got rather lost in the size of the bed, in fact." His hazel eyes twinkled over her hand at her words, and she shook her head with a mischievous grin. "You may comment on that later, sir. _Now_. I promise you that I will take care of myself. I _promise_ I will tell you if my foot hurts- and if it is necessary to check it again, then you may. But until then, I am going to do everything I can to forget it. Until Monday, we are simply here on a well-deserved vacation with beloved friends. And I will _not_ be treated as an invalid."

Gilbert kissed her palm and pulled her hand away with a grin. "If you insist, Miss Shirley."

The two of them were drawn into Penny's conversation, and Louisa cordially asked Anne how her night was. Gilbert's face was smug, and he chuckled when Anne kicked him under the table, still managing to look innocently at Penny's mother.

"It was lovely, Mrs Winston, and your maid is a treasure- I very much appreciated her assistance."

Louisa smiled. "Amanda will be available anytime you need her, dear. I have asked her to assist you while you are here."

Another maid stepped in front of her then to pour a cup of tea, and Anne closed her eyes in hidden relief. Of all of the things that had annoyed her since her injury, dressing had proved the most difficult. It could be done, however, it was a long and frustrating business. Receiving help from nurses, from Marilla, Diana and even Susan had been hard at first- in the early days it had been all she could do to maintain a cool exterior in the face of the shame she felt at being so helpless. Oh, no one had viewed herself that way but herself- however, it seemed that was enough.

Penny spoke up then, with a slight blush. "Now, Jer- Doctor Barnes mentioned to us that you would be having an appointment with him this afternoon, is that correct, Anne?" Anne was taken aback at this. She looked at Gilbert, who shrugged, and Penny halted in confusion. "Perhaps I misunderstood him."

Gilbert shook his head. "We may have missed a letter, that's all." He turned to Anne apologetically. "He may want to get it out of the way so that you can relax, sweetheart." He brightened, then, and took her hand in his. "That means I can show you my city." There was a loud throat clearing from behind the open paper, and Gilbert grinned. "Well, the bits of it I knew, anyway."

David Winston placed the paper down with a sorrowful look. "Even Doctor Barnes manages to go to a museum from time to time, Doctor Blythe- I'm not sure what you were doing with yourself while you were here." Gilbert did not trust himself to speak at this juncture and nodded with a suspicious twinkle in his eye. Mr Winston gave them a fatherly look. "Well, we mustn't make Doctor Barnes wait, then. Sightseeing may hold until tomorrow."

Louisa placed her hand over her husband's and smiled at him affectionately. "Dear, do remember that our guests will be here for some time. We needn't be in a rush."

He seemed to reconsider and turned to his granddaughter. "Should _we_ go out today, pumpkin?"

Lizzie immediately began to chatter about all of the things she wished to see, and Gilbert turned to Anne with a smile.

"Would you like to see _my_ Montreal?" he asked quietly. "It's not so exciting, but as we will already be at the hospital-"

Anne tucked her hand into his with a smile. "Of course, dearest- I want to know your world."

* * *

It was nearing eleven in the morning when Gilbert and Anne set out from the Winston house. Penny came from the office to say goodbye, reminding them cheekily that they should come back with at least one story about the great places of Montreal for her father's sake- and that Anne might keep an eye out for fashions she wished them to shop for later.

"The trouble is, dearest," Anne said to Gilbert thoughtfully as they drove away, "That neither you nor I are especially attracted to the great places of the world."

Gilbert snorted, manoeuvring the buggy that Winstons had insisted he take that day. "I can appreciate them- but don't ask me to stay. I admit that I got lost in my work back then- two years came and went without me noticing," he said with an easy shrug. "I had a small world outside of the hospital. I visited the library when I had time, and I walked a lot. I used to miss _trees_. Not these spindly things you see here and there, but trees- I wanted acres of them. We kept fairly busy; there were lectures to go to and fund-raising dinners, mandatory board meetings, and I got sent to symposiums in other cities- I saw Toronto that way, and Saint John."

Anne watched him thoughtfully. "And to think you could have done all of this without Jeremy- you must have been so glad that he took the position here as well."

He grinned. "I was. Although knowing each other as students and then knowing each other as colleagues were two very different things- the difference between theory and practice, I suppose. We were both trying to figure out who we were- trying to find our place here." He pulled the horse up at the side of the road where the Port of Montreal lay before them, glittering in the sunlight beyond the quays. Up close the water would be churning with the boats moving in and out of the bay, the flotsam and jetsam of the ocean floating around the wharf with men shouting to each other at the water's edge. "I used to come and sit on a bench over there," Gilbert said suddenly. "When everything felt too close. Back home you could head for the shore to get some space- here, it seemed I couldn't get away."

Anne tipped her head on one side. "And yet you must have been lonely at times, Gil."

He chuckled, pulling her closer to him. "I was. But if freedom is being able to be alone with yourself- then I certainly couldn't get that here. When the city got too much I used to come here and watch the water- but it wasn't the same. Back home you could escape."

Anne smiled at him fondly. "Oh, I could often be found there too, Gil- usually by you. You knew most of my hiding places. Oh- and once by Charlie."

Gilbert choked slightly in shock. "Charlie Sloane?"

Her look was cheeky, and she adjusted her wide hat with a practised hand. "Who else? He came upon me once- well, I may as well say that I was _moping_ in the middle of the Haunted Wood, a week or so after Diana's wedding."

Gilbert quirked a teasing eyebrow at her. "I see. And was Mr Sloane able to offer you any comfort?"

"Oh, dear me, no," Anne said cheerfully. "He spoke about letting bygones be bygones, and about him having no cause to regret my refusal when he was eminently more suited to Miss Ashton than he was to me."

Gilbert turned to Anne with his mouth agape. " _Refusal_? Anne, please tell me there wasn't an actual offer from him!"

She chuckled. "Unfortunately, yes. A most insulting one- I was ready to incinerate him on sight. You knew that he had stopped speaking to me, surely."

Gilbert was flabbergasted. "Yes, but he just said you quarrelled, not that he'd _proposed_. He said you lost your temper with him for no apparent reason."

Anne's mouth quirked. "Oh, we certainly quarrelled. When I said no, he pointed out that socially I was beneath him and thus should have been more grateful, and he stated that his mother had always questioned why a happily childless woman such as Marilla should have upset her golden years with a child like _me_."

This last made Gilbert snort. "You know, I always wondered if he was tactless because he secretly had a death wish."

"No, I believe he honestly thought I needed to know that," Anne said, amused. "He forgave me in the end in a speech more insulting than the original proposal. He insisted on walking me back home, and when he had exhausted Miss Ashton's virtues, he began to list Christine's many assets on _your_ behalf, dearest."

Gilbert gave her a droll look. "Oh dear."

Anne laughed, her grey eyes sparkling wickedly. "Yes. I had my revenge, though. I announced that I needed to hurry because I was plagued by certain _womanly_ troubles."

Gilbert let out a shout of laughter that made people on the street turn in their direction, and a placid-looking Anne held the reins while he worked to sober himself. "Anne _Shirley_! And to a Sloane, no less!"

Anne chuckled. "He couldn't disappear fast enough- besides, who would he have dared tell?" she asked with a grin.

Gilbert gave her a warm look, taking the reins back and pulling the team back onto the road. "No one, of course. I've always wondered how they managed to procreate at all- even the most innocent comment about anatomy would have turned Charlie green in our salad days."

Anne chuckled. "No doubt he's wiser now, Gil. He is a husband and father of three, after all."

"You might be surprised," Gilbert responded wryly. "Some choose to remain in ignorance." He smiled at her and pointed down a street on Anne's left. "The library is just down that way- and Jeremy has a house near there overlooking the river. He bought it shortly before I left." He turned to give Anne an odd glance, a twinkle hidden behind his calm expression. "You know, I did see Christine here, once." He smiled then, at the way Anne automatically stiffened.

"Oh?" Anne responded, her grey eyes watchful.

Gilbert grinned. "She and her husband were visiting Montreal in our first year here- I ran into them by chance one day." He saw her sharply look around, almost as if looking for Christine to leap from the shadows, and couldn't resist chuckling. He reached for her left hand, and he brought it up for her to see the emerald on her slim fingers. "Remember this, sweetheart? _You're_ the one I'm in love with."

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she pulled her hand away crossly. "I know that, Gilbert."

Gilbert reached for her again with a grin, nudging her with his shoulder. "Then do stop firing up about her. I told you there was never anything between us- she was very much in love with Mr Dawson's- err, _assets_." Anne looked at him in consternation, and he smiled. "Literally. Ten million pounds worth." Anne's auburn eyebrows rose. "Trust me, she wasn't looking for a struggling student to tie herself to."

Anne had her own opinion about that, and she simply smiled. "Much to my gratitude."

He winked at her, pulling the horses towards a wide street on his right. "Come on, what would you do if you _had_ just seen her on the street back there?"

Anne's chin lifted, her nearly green eyes narrowed. "Nothing, Gilbert. I wouldn't be threatened at all. I'd just grab you inappropriately and kiss you so that everyone present would be in no doubt that you were _mine_."

By the time they had pulled up in front of the hospital, Gilbert had managed to stop laughing and came around to lift Anne down from the wagon. Seeing that for the moment no one was watching, he held her in his arms closely with a huge smile. "You weren't seriously worried, were you?"

Anne ran a slender hand down his tie, not meeting his eyes for a moment. "Nooo- not really." She chuckled at herself then. "It's silly. I know that things weren't always what they seemed- but the memory of us not being together is still so fresh. I suppose I still wouldn't respond well to her if she was here."

Gilbert bent down to look at her tenderly. "I still can't believe that you were jealous over me, Anne-girl. You don't know how that makes me feel."

Anne's gloved hand touched his cheek, a gentle smile on her face. "Oh, I think I do, Doctor Blythe."

He kissed her again and then turned to the hospital, evident affection on his face. He didn't see the subtle fear that played in Anne's grey eyes for a brief second- and when he turned to smile at her, it was carefully hidden again. Not for worlds would she show him that she was afraid- she wouldn't be so selfish. With a shaking breath, she gave him a brilliant smile.

"Come, darling. Show me your world," she said lightly.

* * *

Gilbert led Anne into the great building that housed the administration of the Montreal hospital. To Anne's surprise, after Gilbert's enquiry, Jeremy came striding from his own office, pulling Gilbert into a hug with a shout of glee. After a moment he remembered himself and turned to take Anne's hand in his own with evident delight.

"Anne, you don't know how I've waited to see you both together."

She smiled cheekily. "Jeremy, you only met me a few months ago. You can't have waited that long."

Jeremy looked at Gilbert, amused. "You didn't tell her that I knew all about the two of you?" He turned back to Anne, his look warm. "I have- almost as long as I've known Gilbert. And I couldn't be happier for you both. I'll be seeing you for dinner tonight, I believe- Mrs Winston was most insistent that her guests deserved to have plenty of company." He clapped his hands together, his look smug. "So a wedding in approximately two months time? I am invited, of course?"

Gilbert laughed, his arm around Anne comfortably. "Well, as I plan on asking you to be my best man, yes, you are invited."

"Excellent. I accept with pleasure. I _did_ want to see your island in the summertime." he said in satisfaction. He turned to Anne now, his manner changing abruptly. "Now, Anne, this afternoon's appointment is for you to ask me anything you like- what will happen during the procedure, covering your family medical history-"

Gilbert's fingers tightened around Anne's waist instinctively, and Jeremy caught his look of alarm and blanched. "Anne, forgive me-"

Anne shook her head with a faint smile. "It's alright, Jeremy- I've done this before. I _am_ my medical history. Such as the ankle I broke when I fell off the ridgepole of Diana's house."

"Anne, I'd forgotten about that," Gilbert said, in shock. "Wasn't it-"

"Yes. The same ankle," she said evenly.

Jeremy's eyebrows were at his hairline in shock. "A ridgepole? What were you thinking?"

Anne shrugged with a smile. "It was a matter of honour, Jeremy. I was dared- and I was only twelve or so."

"Of course you were," he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Now, Gilbert, what were you and your lovely fiancée planning on doing for the next few hours? I have another appointment right now, I'm afraid."

Gilbert smiled proudly. "I'd like to show Anne around- and then I believe we will simply take the adventure that comes to us."

* * *

An hour later, after visiting the head of the hospital and other places of interest Gilbert led Anne through a white picket gate, instructing her to close her eyes as he guided her carefully. He smiled at the way she tucked her stick under her arm, taking his hands trustingly.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart."

As Anne did so, her eyes widened. She found herself in a cottage garden, overgrown and sweet- herbs long since overgrowing their borders, the scent of mint being crushed underfoot, and the wind blowing through lavender bushes. They had not gone far, and would still be on hospital grounds- she could still hear the sounds of the busy road nearby, yet in the garden, it seemed distant. "Gil, what is this place?"

He grinned. "It was once the house for the hospital superintendent, however only records are kept there now. I stumbled upon this bit of garden in my first few weeks here- it became my escape, without me having to leave the grounds. The hospital accommodation was just over the road- I lived there for twelve months."

"I can see why it was your haven," she said softly. "I would have escaped here too."

He looked at her lovingly. "I wonder if that was part of the attraction- you and gardens belong together. Will you be out in our garden at all times of the year?"

Anne slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. "Of course. _Our garden_ , Gil. It does sound wonderful." She sighed as he held her tightly, and when he stepped away it was only to scoop her up in his arms prettily, her voluminous skirts draped over his arm in a satisfying way. "What are you doing, sir? This is most irregular," she teased.

"Not for us, it isn't," Gilbert said decidedly, walking down a little pathway, to a grove of trees. He set her down carefully and helped her onto the ground.

When he sat down beside her, Anne turned to him curiously. "Was this what you would do?"

He only chuckled, and lay down on the grass, pulling her down with him as well. "No, _this_ is what I would do. I'd spend hours out here when I was off duty- I'd read, work on clinical problems or write to my parents- and more often than not I'd just sleep. I woke up once and it was night time- luckily in the warmer weather."

Anne smiled, looking up into the green leaves above them. "It's lovely, Gil. And no one ever came here?"

Gilbert rolled over with a smile, and the look in his hazel eyes that Anne was only now coming to recognise. Her hand came up to stroke his cheek, her pink lips parting in a soft smile. "No one, Anne-girl." He bent over her then, his touch gentle, his lips caressing her cheeks and her forehead and the soft skin under her ear as a feather-light sigh came from his beloved's mouth.

"You'll make me forget everything, Gil," she breathed, pulling him down to kiss her. It had been days since they had been able to lose themselves in each other's embrace, needing privacy and time- aside from a hastily seized opportunity on the way back from the dinner carriage two days earlier- the memory of which still made Anne blush. He smiled, seeing the little line between her eyebrows disappear at his touch, and lowered his lips to her white throat with a sigh.

They lay in silence for some time afterwards, the sunlight dappling through the trees. His hand lazily smoothed the fabric of her blouse over her ribs, bending to kiss her smiling lips from time to time.

"Will we do this at home, do you think?" Anne asked him softly. "Just the two of us- no urgency, no hurry to be anywhere-" she chuckled then. "Well, perhaps until we have children, at least."

He gave her a twisted smile. "I certainly hope so- and don't forget, we'll have Susan. I'm sure she'll be happy to give us some time to ourselves."

Anne wrinkled her nose. "Susan is a darling- although I feel a little guilty at having her with us from the start- Diana didn't have any help when she had babies."

"Sweetheart, they had Diana's mother, not to mention her mother in law. I knew Mrs Wright well- and there is no way she would have left them in peace."

Anne's eyebrows lifted. "She didn't- and Mrs Barry almost lived there with each of the children for a month or so. I'd quite forgotten that." She sighed, her look suddenly distant. "And it would be different for me in any case. I couldn't do it without Susan." She took the hand that was tracing patterns on her waist and brought it to her heart, her lashes low on her cheeks. "Gilbert, I worry that you wrestle with the idea of me being crippled," she said slowly, making him sit up in shock. "And about you being disappointed if the operation doesn't work."

Gilbert bent over her then, his eyes watchful. "Then we simply handle it, Anne. You can't think that I would react in any other way."

"Gilbert-"

"No, there is no discussion," he said heatedly. "I told you, that if you choose to walk away from this then I walk with you. I just want _you_ , Anne- and you know that. Why would you even question the outcome?"

She seemed to avoid his gaze then, her stormy grey eyes distant. "I'm not- not really."

His brow lowered, and he brushed a red curl from her face, pausing to stroke her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Anne, is something the matter?"

"Why, Gil?"

Gilbert pulled her up beside him, his eyes shrewd. "Because you don't usually second-guess yourself."

Anne pulled away in shock. "I'm not doing that, Gilbert."

He drew in a deep breath, carefully keeping his voice light. "I don't want you pressuring yourself to go through with this if you aren't willing. I'm with you- and I swear that it's all I want, Anne."

There were tears in her eyes now, and her lips trembled. "And all I want is you."

Gilbert pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly. Over the top of her head his hazel eyes were troubled, and for a time he simply held her close, hoping that his touch was enough to dissipate whatever ghosts were haunting her.

* * *

The appointment with Jeremy went as planned, and as Gilbert sat next to Anne he watched her in bewilderment. Gone was the vulnerability he had seen- in its place was a calm and collected manner, asking intelligent questions that were seemingly void of emotion. Gilbert spoke up when necessary, although Anne appeared to be holding her own well enough. She was quiet when they left the hospital though, and when Jeremy offered to show her the ward she would be staying in she declined with a smile, saying that she was sure that she would see enough of it later on.

Some hours later, after she had gone to rest in her room at the house, Gilbert was having tea in the conservatory with Penny and her parents. Anne had been instantly dismissive when he spoke to her of his concerns, kissing him swiftly and calling him a beloved worrywart. He'd smiled, telling her to behave herself and somehow managed to away. Now, he sat with a forgotten cup in his hands, the white china growing cool under his abstraction.

"I suppose Anne must be becoming nervous about her operation, Doctor Blythe," Louisa commented, passing him a plate of tartlets.

Gilbert was startled at her words, but shook himself, summoning a smile. "Mrs Winston, please call me Gilbert- I'm hardly on duty now."

She nodded, smiling. "If you insist, Gilbert. It must be hard to be here in a different capacity- especially with Anne's condition."

He chuckled. "She doesn't like to be thought of as an invalid- least of all by me, I think." These last words were spoken soberly, and Louisa caught the note of worry in his tone.

"Didn't the appointment go well?"

Gilbert shook his head. "It seemed to. She didn't appear to be fazed by any of Jeremy's questions- although she kept referring to him as Doctor Barnes most formally," he said wryly. "She does like to keep some distance with her doctors- and she told me some time ago that she wasn't the easiest patient to deal with. She never did like being told that she couldn't do something."

Penny smiled. "I just can't see Anne being like that- she always appears so calm to me."

Gilbert gave a small chuckle. "She does- but there's so much more to her than that."

As the conversation between Penny and Mrs Winston turned to the dressmakers they had sourced for Anne, Gilbert rose from his seat with a word of thanks, excusing himself for a walk. Outside in the sunshine he strode down the pathway to the trees behind the house. He looked around, seeing a fence that bordered a small park, and decided to explore it. As he did so, concern furrowed his brow.

He supposed Anne _was_ nervous. Penny was right- she was much better at covering her emotions than she had been years ago- something that still took him by surprise. He knew she was keeping her fears from him. But why _would_ she? Hadn't they come far enough- hadn't he earned her trust by now? He drew in a shaking breath, trying to stop himself from marching back to the house to demand answers. _Surely_ she would come to him when she was ready- surely he just needed to wait.

Gilbert was looking around the small field when he turned sharply at a rustle near the trees, and instead of the animal he expected, he saw a familiar green skirt visible behind the tree and froze in shock. She wasn't resting- she was _here_. Gilbert stood unmoving for several minutes, working to control his anger before he confronted the object of his every waking thought. Her lack of movement told him that she knew he was there as well.

Eventually, Anne spoke.

"I told you that you always find me."

Gilbert sighed, rubbing his forehead, and moved around the tree to sit before her. There was a dull look on her face, and he swallowed hard. If he'd needed any proof that she was struggling, this was certainly enough. Choking back the disappointment that she hadn't come to him, he studied her. He saw the way her hands were knotted around her knees, the evidence of recent tears on her face. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her answer was not the one he expected. "How _could_ I?"

Gilbert blinked in shock. "Anne, you are _marrying_ me- why wouldn't you come to me if you're worried about something?"

In morbid fascination he watched her walls begin to crumble, and she came to her knees swiftly. "Because I have to do this on my _own_ ," she hissed, the angry tears building. "You can't go there with me, Gil- you can't know what it was like. Marilla and Diana tried too, but in the end, they had to leave me to it. You are so bound up my recovery that you aren't _with_ me-"

Gilbert's eyes blazed. "Anne, that is completely irrational!"

"You are a _doctor_ , Gilbert!" she stormed. "You view it from the other end. You don't know what it is like to be the patient- you don't know what it is to have to lie there, unable to fend for yourself. I have to do this on my own because _you can't understand_."

Her heart broke when she saw the tears standing in his eyes. "Anne, _help_ me understand," he pleaded. "Please, don't push me away."

The panic spiralled in her, and she shut her eyes against the pain. The smells and sounds she had endured that day- the memories that drove her from her neat, orderly room into the wilderness rose before her. "I can't do it," she said bleakly. " _Any_ of it. It's all so familiar. the scratch of the sheets in the bed, the sound of other patients moaning in their sleep-" she gave a bitter laugh then. "And you know that when you are asleep, you must be doing the same. The harshness of metal instruments being tossed onto a tray- of doctors and nurses laughing outside in the halls while you are _screaming_ inside. They move you without warning, poking and prodding and asking interminable questions- and if you give into it, it nearly kills you. And they try to help- they listen and try to touch you but they _can't_ , because they are on the other side- don't you see that?" She shook her head, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "When I left there, I swore I wouldn't do this- I swore that the only way I would enter a hospital again was if I was unconscious," she said passionately.

Gilbert drew a shaking breath at what she had revealed, and he eventually nodded. He held out his hand to her, wanting her to choose to come to him on her own. She was still for a moment while he waited, and when she moved to him he gathered her into his arms, his chest tight. "Anne- I'm- I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Anne held herself stiffly, her grey eyes coming up to meet his. "I wanted to be brave. I wanted to do this for you- for our family. But at the hospital, the sounds and smells- it all seemed to scream at me today- I wanted to run. Gilbert, I don't know how else to handle this," she said brokenly. "I didn't want you to think that I didn't care about your past. I didn't want you to worry about me, or to feel that you had to nursemaid me through everything like a child- but I don't know how to walk back in there in cold blood," she whispered.

He stroked the hair from her face, neither of them noticing that the sun was beginning to descend. After a time Gilbert pulled away, his jaw firm. "Anne, did you know that you called me Doctor Blythe twice today?"

Anne gave him a startled look. "I often do, Gil."

" _No_ , Anne-girl. Then it's in a voice that makes me utterly melt inside," he said drolly. "This time it was different. It was the way you spoke to me when you moved to the Glen- and you did it to Jeremy, as well. And that's what clued me in." He held her face tenderly in his hands, kissing the seven tiny freckles on her nose.

Anne's face was thunderstruck. "I- I didn't know I did that."

Gilbert sighed. "I've made a decision, sweetheart. I'm resigning as your doctor," he said, his look gentle. "For the next month, at least. If you need someone, no matter how simple we'll call Jeremy in- he won't mind an extra trip or two if he gets to see Penny. But for now, _he_ is your physician." He wrapped his arms around her firmly. "I'm doing that for both of our sakes. You need me to walk with you- and I can't do that as your physician."

Anne closed her eyes, her lips trembling. "You can't just turn that off, Gil."

" _Watch_ me." At his stern voice, she looked up in shock. "Remember when it was just you and me? Before Redmond, before expectations and pressures and hurts came between us?"

Anne let out a breath. "Gil, we're not those people, now."

He cupped her face in his hands. "Yes, we are. We were beloved friends who loved each other then- and we love each other now. Only _now_ we can show it." His smile was sweet, and he exhaled. "Anne, I'm sorry. I should have seen this before- I should have realised. I didn't understand how hard it would be for you to separate everything from me. And I don't want to be just another white coat to you."

Anne blinked at him in shock, and took his face in her hands to kiss him firmly. "You _aren't_." She rested her forehead against his with a sigh and continued slowly. "I was trying to not burden you with this- it seems you carry so much on my behalf."

Gilbert gave her such a sceptical look that Anne laughed, and the knot of tension between them began to dissipate. "That's _love_ , Anne. Anything I carry I do so because I love you- as you do for me. Remember? Our life together began nine months ago. Back then, even when I couldn't do a thing to help you, and I honestly thought I was doing you a favour by staying away. You were in my thoughts constantly- and it wasn't because I thought you were weak. You were stronger on your own than I had been. You _know_ that. I don't think you're weak- I don't think you unable to handle this." He took her hand in his and placed it over his beating heart yearningly. "Do you feel that? You're _here_. You are in the core of me. That's why, if you decide to go into surgery, I go too. I know that the others couldn't- but I _can_."

After long minutes Anne nodded, her arms sliding around his neck. She clung to him in the dimming light, her voice soft. "I haven't felt this way for months," she said woodenly.

Gilbert tipped her chin up, his hazel eyes intent on her. "Let me do it with you, Anne- as _me_ , not my profession. That's all I'm asking."

Anne nodded. She gave a short sigh, her look distant. "The others always had to go, Gil. They didn't want to- but Marilla couldn't afford to stay with me indefinitely. And Diana needed to return to her family- I had to learn to be alone."

"Well, you _are_ my family," Gilbert said firmly. "You won't be alone again. I'll be by your side until Jeremy orders me out of there- and I'll be on the ward when you wake up. Alright?"

She nodded in relief, Gilbert pulled away in some consternation. "Anne, how on earth did you get all the way out here? That path was rocky."

She chuckled. "Penny showed me another path yesterday- you must have come through the forest. And I _did_ bring my stick this time."

Gilbert laughed, pulling her up to her feet. He looked at her carefully, however, the brittle manner she had worn was gone, and she was his own Anne-girl once again. She led him around to the left, to find the very path she had described, fringed with sweet flowers swaying in the breeze. He sighed, looking out to where the rest of the city lay. "It's an oasis."

Anne gave him a glance filled with mischief. "I couldn't possibly reveal my sources- however, it seems that Doctor Barnes has discovered this particular oasis as well. He and Penny are both very fond of it, it seems- as much as _we_ are of a certain garden now across the water."

He laughed then, snatching Anne close. "And we've found their nest! I do hope they won't mind loaning it to us while we are here." He grinned at her, his heart much lighter than when he left the house earlier. "It will be a pleasure to torment him about something, I'm afraid he's had far too much fun at my expense, lately."

Louisa Winston met her guests at the front door, smiling at the contented look on the young people's faces. "There you both are! You will have time to change for dinner, but do be quick about it, won't you? Andrew is waiting for you in the drawing room, Gilbert." Gilbert bowed with a smile and moved away, as Louisa turned to Anne with concern on her face. "I'm so glad Gilbert found you, dear. Are you feeling better now?" Anne started, her grey eyes wide at her hostesses' perceptiveness. Louisa shook her head with a knowing smile. "I'm a mother, dear, we can always tell."

Anne smiled shakily. "I think it will take a little while to be alright with the surgery," she said softly. "But I needed to talk to him about it. I should have done that before."

Louisa pulled her into a hug warmly. "You _can_ , Anne. He needs to know that you trust him." She smiled then, tucking Anne's hand into her elbow. "Now, darling, I understand Amanda has laid out a lovely gown for you for dinner, and she is quite eager to style your splendid Titian hair. Let's not keep her waiting."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

On Saturday afternoon, while Penny met with her father to discuss some invoices that needed his signature, Anne and Gilbert strolled outside to the oasis, enjoying some time alone. Gilbert had spent the day with Andrew and Lizzie on the St Lawrence River, enjoying the fresh breezes and open air, while the ladies of the party were occupied at the dressmakers. Now, Anne lay with her head on Gilbert's lap in the afternoon sunshine, the breeze rippling through the grass of the oasis as they talked.

"And what did Miss Winston say to your request?" Gilbert asked.

Anne smiled. "Yes, of course- and she and her mother both cried. Diana insisted that I have a bridesmaid, and I am glad, dearest- it will be lovely to have Penny with me on our wedding day. She found the dearest dress for it- a pale blue that suits her to perfection. Did you know the Winstons are coming back to the Island with her?"

Gilbert grinned. "I suspected they would- and Jeremy will most likely join their party."

Anne looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you think he is in love with her?"

He chuckled, running his fingers through a loosened curl. "To the point of asking if he had any rivals on the island he should be worrying about."

Anne sat up crossly for a moment. "Good grief, Gilbert- if he doesn't see that he is the _only_ one she is looking at-"

He kissed her on the nose, cutting her off effectively. "Steady on now, sweetheart. Should either of us be throwing stones about that particular issue?"

Anne couldn't help but laugh, and settle back against him. "I suppose not. Did you discuss that yesterday?"

"Amongst doctoring matters, you mean?" he said dryly. He had spent the day at the hospital in the surgical unit, talking with former colleagues and watching some of the newer techniques that were being used- some of which Gilbert had only read about in medical journals a month earlier. The time had passed swiftly- and at the end of the day, Gilbert stood at the front doors with Jeremy, waiting for the cab that would take them back to the Winston home. He could hardly keep the smile from his face. His day had been incredible, however, once upon a time, he'd wondered what it would be like to have someone waiting for him- and the girl he loved _was_. His long-legged stride went up the manor steps two at a time, with an impatience that Jeremy could only laugh at. Unwilling to wait even for Anne to arrive in the drawing room, he met her with a breathless kiss in the relative privacy of the hallway outside her room.

Now in the sunshine, he smiled. "So keep going- how was the last day of shopping?"

"Di warned me, you know," Anne commented brightly. "She sent me a list of everything she thought I might need- and that list pales dreadfully next to what was suggested by Madame and Mrs Winston."

Gilbert was thoughtful. "Is there a reason you wanted to keep your trousseau small, sweetheart?"

Anne smiled. "I already have quite the wardrobe, Gil- you know how I love pretty dresses. Much of it is new, since they went unworn for some time. Firstly in hospital, when I wore mostly nightgowns, and then only the plainest of dresses in the rehabilitation clinic- the liniments stained everything dreadfully."

"And then you were in mourning," he added with a sigh.

"And then I was in mourning." She tipped her head up to look at him then. "I never told you that you were right on the shore that day, Gil. I _was_ hiding in black clothes," she said slowly. "Of course the mourning was at its worst when I lost Marilla- but it began months before she died, I think. I didn't know how to find myself after the accident."

Gilbert stroked her hair, wondering if she was ready to talk to him about it. "Do you remember anything of it?" he asked quietly.

Anne closed her eyes against the sunlight, her voice faint. "Not at first. When I woke up all I knew was pain- I couldn't think clearly for weeks." He remained silent, hoping that she would continue. She gave a slight shudder then. "Sometimes I think I remember the falling. When I first saw my leg, I- I threw up. I couldn't believe it could look like that. Marilla was with me then- and she was shaking more than I was." Anne gave a faint chuckle. "She told me that I needed to accept the will of Providence and that I shouldn't be so vain when I was alive. I didn't know that was what she was worried about," she said softly. "It wasn't vanity- it just didn't look like _mine_."

Gilbert shifted under her slightly, his touch gentle. "What else?"

Anne watched the movements of the clouds as faint memories whispered. "One of the nurses used to wear lavender scent- and another had a shrill voice that was unbearable during the night. I do remember that there were people crowded around me, talking about me-" she turned to him then, her brow lowered crossly. "Talking _about_ me, but not _to_ me. Do you know how infuriating that is?"

"Yes." He smiled at the look on her face. "When I had typhoid- towards the end, I mean. Over the years I've remembered small things- and there were usually people standing around my bed discussing me. It's why I try not to do that with my patients." He paused for a moment, before continuing slowly. "You wouldn't have been aware of the first operation, I suppose."

Anne shook her head. "I was later, I assure you," she said dryly. "The second involved the head surgeon coming to see me personally- he said that I wasn't healing as well as they had hoped. He suggested that a second surgery might improve things."

Gilbert flinched. "That's what _we_ said to you."

Anne gave a wry laugh. "You can see why I said no, initially." He shifted himself to lay beside her, and she gave him a tender glance. "I do know that this is different- I really do." She sighed, resting her head against his chest, and he tucked her into his side comfortingly. After a time, Anne brought up her clothing again. "Mrs Winston had some very sensible suggestions as to what to buy today- and while it is more money than I have ever spent on clothing at one time, I will soon have the trousseau of our dreams," she said cheekily. "And that is quite a feat when you consider that we are going home in a month."

Gilbert chuckled. "Do I need to change my wardrobe to keep up with you then?"

Anne shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "No. Although perhaps your mother will say differently."

Anne lay watching the leaves moving, lost in her thoughts as the sound of Gilbert's heartbeat soothed her. The wardrobe fittings had been a whirlwind of activity- Anne had been in the centre of the eye of the hurricane, it seemed, while everything moved around her. Louisa had warned the dressmaker of the need to be aware of her fatigue in standing, and Madame had arranged everything accordingly. Anne only had to decide on colours and patterns, while everything was brought to her for her inspection. The wedding dress would be finished in a fortnight, and the undergarments and other dresses would be delivered shortly before they were due to go home. There was only one thing she had not found yet- however, perhaps that was something that could be taken care of in the weeks to come.

Gradually Anne became aware that Gilbert's breath had steadied, and she saw with a smile to see that he had fallen asleep. She shifted from his shoulder carefully, not wanting to wake him. In the warmth of the summer afternoon, he had abandoned his jacket, and his white sleeves had been rolled up, making him resemble the boy she had roamed through fields with, in days gone by. She sat up and began to study the small field dreamily. They were under the largest of the trees surrounded by the fairy-like cotton grass, the white puffs waving gently in the breeze. A cluster of violets caught her attention in the shade, and she moved carefully to sit near the patch, twisting the purple and white flowers into a crown dreamily.

Sometime later, Penny Winston walked up the path with a basket, relaxing when she saw Gilbert snoring peacefully under the tree, some distance from Anne. She sat beside her with a smile. "I didn't want to interrupt- err- anything, but I thought the two of you might enjoy a picnic," she said lightly, making Anne chuckle.

"When Gilbert wakes up, I'm sure he will. Is Jeremy coming?"

Penny blushed slightly. "No. He called to say that he had an emergency at the hospital."

Anne smiled. "Such is the nature of their profession. As is the ability to fall asleep anywhere- Gilbert warned me about that."

"As Doctor Barnes did me," Penny said dryly.

Anne could not resist teasing her a little now. "And did Doctor Barnes mention anything else, Penny? His intentions, perhaps?"

Penny looked over to where Gilbert lay, unconscious in slumber, at least for the moment. Her lower lip was tucked between her teeth, and she turned to Anne then, her eyes sparkling. "He _has_ been talking with my father. I only found out when I saw him give Jeremy a hug outside his office. I admit, that did seem promising, despite the panicked look on Jeremy's face when he did so."

Anne clapped her hands with a small laugh. "Wonderful! And do you see him often?"

"Not nearly as often as I would like." Fairly certain that Jeremy's friend would not awaken if he hadn't done so already, Penny continued sheepishly. "He's charming, and handsome and good- and he makes me laugh," she said slowly. "He teases me about working with Father- but he loves the fact that I do. He doesn't get impatient with the social doings that my mother insists on, and he couldn't be more attentive. My family adore him- even Stephen- and I think him rather nice as well." The deliberate understatement made Anne chuckle, and Penny exhaled loudly. "I always thought of myself as someone who would enjoy this time- instead I find myself quite impatient. It's most unladylike."

"It's not unladylike to love someone- or to want to be with them sooner, either." Anne stretched out her legs on the grass carefully. "Diana and her husband were in school together. They became engaged when she was eighteen, and her parents insisted that they wait three years before the wedding." Anne chuckled. "Di always told me that love can wait- but she was adamant that it was preferable not to."

"I can appreciate that. And courting _is_ lovely." Penny looked at Anne then with a mischievous smile. "And what of your own courtship?" she teased. "You know you could have begun much sooner- I should dearly have loved to see the two of you together while I was on the island."

Anne shrugged slim shoulders with a smile. "Oh, Gilbert and I still had some things to work through back then- and as soon as we did, we were engaged. Technically, you could say that we didn't court at all- or that we were _always_ courting." Anne's laugh was heartfelt at this thought. "Goodness, I suppose that was really the truth- while we were friends, at least. Oh dear- I owe Rachel Lynde an apology, in that case."

Penny swiveled to face Anne, her blue eyes pleading. "Anne, I have been dying of curiosity for months- would you _please_ tell me your story? Andrew knows very little- and I did ask him," she said candidly.

Anne chuckled. "You asked the wrong person, in fact- apparently _Jeremy_ knew everything from Gilbert. Not that I realised that."

Penny clapped her hands together in glee, and as they sat in the sunshine, Anne told her the story. Her eyes softened at the look on Anne's face as she described the years that had come between them. "You only realised you loved him when he was dying?"

Anne smiled sadly. "I did. I should have known- but I didn't. When I first moved to the Glen I believed him married- or at least with someone." Anne continued slowly, feeling the need to acknowledge what she had thought. "I thought perhaps he was with you."

"No. That was never going to be the case, whatever village gossip said," Penny said lightly. "No one could bring him back to life but you, Anne. I watched it happen right before my eyes. It was almost miraculous."

Anne turned to look at him, a lump in her throat. "Gilbert did that for me as well."

To her surprise, Penny began to laugh. "Oh, Anne, the more time went on, the more Andrew and I realised what a train-wreck of a night we gave the two of you. I never apologised for surprising you so. We had no idea- it must have been utterly mortifying."

Anne could laugh about it now. "That was the cumulation of eight and a half years of history between us- to say nothing of the nine before that. You and Andrew handled it marvellously, though- now I wonder at us not beginning to shout at each other immediately."

"Well, I needed a few hours," came a muffled voice, and the two women jumped as Gilbert groaned and stretched lazily on the grass. "Must you discuss ancient history while I sleep?"

Penny smiled brilliantly. "Had you been awake, I should only have asked you as well, Gilbert. And Anne told me your story wonderfully."

"So she should," he said, coming to sit beside his fiancée with a grin. "She's a born storyteller. Did Anne not tell you that she writes?"

Penny's mouth was wide open, and she turned to Anne with a big smile. "She did _not_."

"Ask her about Averil, first. Baking powder is her favourite subject," he suggested, deftly avoiding Anne's indignant slap with a chuckle.

Penny watched the two of them fondly, and gave a contented sigh as Gilbert kissed the scowl from Anne's forehead. She smiled then, recalling that Jeremy would be eating with them the following day. And what was one more day?

* * *

Anne awoke early on Sunday morning to a room glowing with sunshine, and warm yellow roses that had been placed in the grate of the fireplace. She could see that Amanda had already been in to open the drapes, and was not surprised to see the door open quietly, and the maid herself come in with a tray.

"Good morning, miss! I thought you might not sleep so late today, so I asked the cook to prepare some tea for you early."

Anne sat up in bed with a smile, pulling a frilly bed jacket around her shoulders in the cool of the morning. "It looks lovely, Amanda. Thank you."

The girl moved to the wardrobe to gather Anne's dress with a cheerful look. "That fiancé of yours is most persistent, Miss. He's caught me twice this morning trying to see if you're up yet."

Anne chuckled, well able to imagine Gilbert's impatience at the demands of propriety at that moment. She flushed slightly, as she thought about how different it would all be in just a few months- when her room would be his own, and no formality would stand between them. "I suppose I had better start readying for the day then."

"No, Miss, he said to not disturb you," she said quickly, and then chuckled. "But he might stop wearing a hole in the rug if you do. He sent a note for you, by the way."

Amanda stole a glance at Anne as she read the letter tucked under the cup and saucer, smiling at the evident blush on her pale cheeks. As she turned back to the clothing Anne had selected, she gave a happy sigh. She had gone from dusting sideboards and polishing silver to assisting this most important guest and was having the time of her young life. Anne was friendly and kind, and the young love in the house made it seem a paradise to the romantic-hearted girl. Anne asked all manner of questions that most guests would not, and she found herself chattering to her about her home and her family, and the young man she was friendly with in the grocers.

Gilbert had indeed been pacing since six that morning. A week of sleeping at regular intervals had given him back an energy he thought had vanished with youth- he'd been for a walk to the stables and then onto the creek, before testing the branches of a tree his younger self would have delighted in. Andrew had come outside, and chuckled to see Gilbert's ungainly leap to the ground.

"That's the tree I climbed when I'd done something bad," he said cheerfully.

Gilbert chuckled, brushing himself down. "I went on the roof. Dad was too good a tree climber to beat him at that game. How was your dinner last night?"

Andrew smiled. "Interesting. It's strange to see how old schoolfellows change- and how much they stay the same."

"I would guess that they would see changes in you as well," Gilbert commented easily.

"Last time I saw them was before Lizzie was born, actually." He smiled, looking up at his childhood home. "Many of them are married now- we spent time comparing the ages of our children, boasting of their accomplishments- in short behaving just as fathers do. Most odd." He turned to go inside then, an intrigued look on his face. "I checked on Lizzie this morning- and she's still fast asleep. Did you all wear her out last night?"

Gilbert grinned. "She did that all by herself. She had Penny and Anne tucking her into bed without you there, and would only let them leave when her grandmother came to sit with her. She ended up in the downstairs salon twice, insisting on sitting right between Penny and Jeremy each time."

"Good girl," Andrew said placidly, before laughing at Gilbert's surprised face. "I may like him- I may end up with him as a brother-in-law, if mother's predictions are right, but that doesn't mean I need to make it easy. Penny is my baby sister. I owe her this."

"I think that baby sister of yours may prove a match for you yet."

* * *

Anne had just gained the hallway when the two men entered the house, and with a broad smile, Gilbert moved to meet her.

"Now this seems like you again," Anne teased, as Gilbert leaned in to kiss her. "Is Amanda correct, dearest? Have you been pacing since dawn?"

He shrugged, slipping his arm around her. "Before, actually. I went out to watch it rise over the city."

Andrew rolled his eyes, leading the way to the breakfast room. "You really don't know how to relax, do you?"

"I do!" Gilbert said flatly, turning to Anne with a glint in his eye. "Remember when you insisted that we just _had_ to go back to Hester's garden before we started our second year of teaching? You had to see the sunrise from there, and you knew Marilla wouldn't let you go alone in the dark-"

Andrew held his hand up sceptically. "Anne, are you telling me that your guardian let you go running around in the dark with _him_ as your only companion?"

Anne laughed at Gilbert's smug look. "He's Gilbert Blythe. He could do no wrong in Marilla's eyes." She turned to her fiancé, her glance arch. "And it was glorious, wasn't it?"

His hazel eyes never left hers, and he smiled. "Prettiest thing I ever saw," he said softly.

The two of them were startled at the moan from the man across from them. "Good grief! Have you no respect for the people who have to put up with your abominable flirting?"

Gilbert grinned, knowing his friend was not serious. "You wanted us together," he said lightly. "Although that desire certainly fell short of our own. You can hardly complain about it now."

They were joined by the other members of the family then, and Andrew shot him a mischievous look. Gilbert shrugged innocently as he reached under the table to grasp Anne's hand. As she chatted with Mr Winston she gave his hand a squeeze, and he turned back to his breakfast with a smile.

Later that afternoon, the staff served a celebratory tea out on the lawns, where Andrew and Penny were teaching Lizzie to play tennis. After a time, Lizzie's aunt took the young girl off to show her the tree house her father had once made, and Andrew called for Gilbert to join him on the old court. He kissed Anne's cheek, and she watched him go with a smile. Anne drew in a deep breath, beginning to relax in the sunshine- despite her nerves about the operation the next day.

Suddenly Anne jumped as a body fell into the chair beside her, and she looked around to see Jeremy's easy grin.

"Jeremy Barnes!" Anne scolded, her hand on her heart in fright. "Did your mother never tell you that it is rude to come upon people so abruptly?"

Jeremy shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, as I was born a full four weeks early, I believe she must have done- still, we can't all be perfect."

Anne sat back with a chuckle. "I suppose not. I'm surprised you haven't gone to join Andrew and Gilbert yet."

He gave a shrug, surreptitiously looking around for Penny. "I've been at the hospital- they can come and find me if they need me."

Anne smiled. "Once upon a time, I would have been down there with them too," she said easily.

Jeremy gave her a curious look, however, his voice was gentle. "You may be again. That is what all of this is about, after all."

Anne chuckled. "I suppose so."

He folded his arms, watching her. "Gilbert tells me that you're worried about tomorrow."

Anne's chin rose, and she swallowed hard. "I do wish he hadn't done that."

"Would _you_ have told me?"

She hesitated then. "No. It isn't important."

Jeremy sighed, his hand ruffling his blond hair. "Well, I happen to think it _is_ ," he said kindly, and she turned to stare at him. "I'm not worried, Anne. I know exactly what I'm doing. But he's worried about you- _you_ , not the operation."

"I'm doing better now," she said quietly. "Although I admit that I am still very nervous about the hospital. It was hard last time- and so many things didn't work as they were supposed to."

Jeremy nodded. "I know. But with all due respect, last time, you didn't have _me_." The complacent look on his face made her laugh, and he grinned. "They say all surgeons are tainted with egotism- but it's true nonetheless."

Anne chuckled. "And was Gilbert like that too?"

Jeremy nodded. "Of course. He was asked to take the place of the head surgeon, you know. Quite something for someone less than two years out of medical school."

Anne looked at him in surprise. "Here?"

"Oh, here, Kingsport, Charlottetown," he said easily. "He's one of the best I've worked with- excluding my good self, of course."

"Naturally," she said, dimpling.

Jeremy shook his head. "But then his uncle died- and to general practice, he would go. I still haven't forgiven him for that." He watched the gentlemen running around the court, and smiled. "I've known him his whole career, you know- and I've never seen him like this before."

"It's the tennis, isn't it?" Anne said in jest, and he chuckled.

"No. So emotionally involved."

Anne turned to him curiously. "He did say you might not let him on the hospital grounds while you were operating."

"I did threaten that, yes. I'm not working with him pacing around outside. I've convinced Doctor Weston to let him observe a heart surgery that he's doing at the same time- right up Gilbert's alley."

Anne turned to him, her look suddenly wistful. "Jeremy, what was he like?"

He gave her an odd look. "Err- when?"

"What was he like at medical school- and here? I missed so many years," she said simply. "I missed knowing that side of him."

Jeremy watched Gilbert laugh at Andrew's wild serve on the court, and smiled. "He was a good sport. Hardworking- but a good sense of humour underneath it. He'd stop to help anyone who was struggling but drove himself like a team of oxen. I had to make him take breaks, at times."

Anne sighed. "I can well imagine that."

"He didn't talk about you often, back then," he said gently, "But I could see that you meant a lot to him. You know that he could have stayed here- but he had to go home. As much as I hate to admit it, it's where he's meant to be- with _you_."

Anne looked at the friend who had been by Gilbert's side for so many years and smiled. "I am glad you will be there for the wedding."

"So am I." He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he watched Penny and Lizzie approaching across the spacious lawn. "And I'm going to do everything I can to get you walking up that aisle."

Anne chuckled, wiping an unexpected tear away. "Thank you. I'm very grateful, Jeremy. And thank you for allowing Gilbert to be at the hospital."

Jeremy grinned. "I wouldn't be so sure that's a good thing. You may be asking me to send him home before we're done."

* * *

The Winstons were delighted to have Jeremy stay for dinner, and as the young people sat talking into the evening, Anne smiled at the way he sat beside Penny on the sofa, her hand tucked in his much larger one. Anne imagined that the contented looks on her parent's faces were evidence of their approval, and they soon bade their guests' goodnight, leaving the younger generation to chaperone themselves. Anne was growing tired herself and soon looked around to see Gilbert's knowing smile. While Andrew and Jeremy debated the political climate of Quebec, he spoke softly to her.

"You need to go to bed, don't you?"

Anne huffed crossly. "I do _not_ like being so transparent."

He grinned. "Maybe just to me. Shall I walk you back?"

Anne nodded, and Gilbert turned to tell the others that he would head to bed himself, unsurprised to see Andrew yawning as well. Anne caught the deliberately casual look on Jeremy's face and the tighter clasp on his lady's hand, as he wished them a good night most generously.

Anne stood up then, bringing all three gentlemen to their feet in alarm when she wobbled slightly. Jeremy moved to hand her the stick, and Gilbert only raised one eyebrow at her. "You can't feel it at all, can you?" he teased. Anne shook her head with a shrug, startling when he lifted her from the ground easily. "Gentlemen, Penny," he said calmly. "I'll see you in the morning." There was gentle laughter behind them, and Anne overheard Andrew bidding the remaining couple a good evening. She chuckled at his unusually accommodating behaviour- not knowing that Andrew's thoughts were on his time with Lizzie's mother, at the sight of his sister so content.

To Anne's surprise, Gilbert did not set her down outside her suite, walking instead to a door nearby, beyond which lay the conservatory.

"Wasn't I meant to be sleeping?" she reminded him, amused.

"I only thought this would make a better place to say goodnight," he said, all teasing falling aside. He set her down on one of the long sofas under moonlit palm leaves, the earthy smell of the plant life around them. Anne smiled as he sat beside her, his hazel eyes intent on her own. She raised her hands to cup his face, and he closed his eyes as she kissed him sweetly.

"You're right. This is much better than the hallway," she breathed, and he pulled her closer, his breath warm against her skin.

"Remind me why I said we shouldn't run away together now?" he muttered, making her laugh in his arms. She looked at him in the faint light, his tie loosened and a dreamy smile on his handsome face. As she studied him, her face flushed at the memory of all the nights spent wanting him- wanting his presence, his voice and his touch in her bed. She traced the line of his collar with gentle fingers, as he cradled her heating cheek. "I'm waiting for a reason, Miss Shirley," he murmured.

She gave a throaty chuckle that made him shiver. "If you are looking for one that I will see as valid, I haven't yet found one," she said softly. "However, we have tomorrow to get through- and in only a few weeks we will be married. It isn't so long for us to wait."

He swallowed, his hands caressing her waist. "I know. And I should be grateful. It's just that we're here- _together_ \- and somehow it's still not close enough." To Anne's surprise then, he flinched. "I'm sorry, Anne. Of all the things we should talk about tonight, it isn't the time for this." He made to move away, embarrassed, however she grasped his shirt, pulling him down to rest against her slender body. As she held him close, he swore he could see the green in her fiery eyes.

"What would you discuss, Gil? Tomorrow?" He only looked at her in the moonlight, his breathing fast. "Everything has already been said. _This_ ," she whispered, holding him close, " _This_ is the tomorrow that is filling my thoughts." Gentle fingers moved over his mouth, and she gave him a luminous smile. "And if I must confess all, Gilbert, I cannot lie in my bed without wanting you beneath the covers with me."

He crushed her into his arms then, a joyous laugh welling up inside. "And to think I was worried about scaring you, telling you how I felt," he teased.

Anne gave him the loving smile that said how well she knew him. "You needn't worry, Gilbert," she whispered. "I already know."


	37. Chapter 37

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing, it means so much to me that you are following along! I have to give shout out to Rebeccathehistorian, 24 reviews in 7 days- you didn't have to do that, but how I loved that you did. Before I began this story, there were several people I bounced ideas off- Kwak, Julie3113, hecalledmecarrots (I still do! ) and Rebecca, who knows a lot about medical history from that time period- so thank you all for your help. Quite candidly, I am enjoying writing this again. I've discovered that writing becomes hard when I'm worried about its reception- so I'm trying to just have fun now. You are a tremendously forgiving bunch, and I thank you.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Chapter 37**

"I think she's coming out of it, Doctor."

 _Anne was adrift in a sea of mayflowers, feeling an odd prickle in her foot. "It's so lovely, Gil," she mumbled. "But where did all of the trees go? Did Mr Winston take them?"_

There was a clatter of metal instruments then, and a chuckle. "Yes, she's coming out. We need to watch her for- oh, there she goes."

 _Marilla's voice came then, impatiently. "Anne, for pity's sake, if you feel sick, then you need to stay home from school!"_

 _"But he'll get ahead of me!" she wailed, from her low, white bed in the room at Green Gables._

Someone pulled a blanket over her then, the weight of it comforting. "It's alright now, Anne, we're almost done. Gilbert will be waiting for us."

 _A long aisle stretched before her, and in the distance, she could see apple trees blossoming. She looked down at the walking stick that had inexplicably become a tennis racket and heard Gilbert's impatient voice from beside her. "Well, come on Anne, I've been waiting ever so much longer than you have." He began to run, and she tried to call him back, only to find that he was out of sight. In a temper, she stomped her foot._

 _"It isn't good manners to take someone's cane and then leave," she spluttered. Suddenly a sharp pain and a curious coldness went through her foot, she looked around to see water rising rapidly. The dory was sinking- and where was Gilbert? Wasn't he supposed to be there whenever a dory sank?_

 _"I'll just wait here for him then," Anne mumbled. "The lake trout will keep me company."_

* * *

The old clock on the mantelpiece had just chimed two in silver sounds, when Gilbert shifted slightly, trying to find a way to fold his frame into an ancient wicker chair. A low storm was rumbling in the distance, and the faint moonlight shone in through the high arched windows of the hospital ward, the white curtains moving in the breeze. He turned his head at the low voice of the night nurse as she spoke to another patient, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

A slight movement beside him made him jump, and he was quick to bound to Anne's side, his hand smoothing the wisps of red hair from her forehead.

"Good morning, sunshine," he teased, seeing her confused grey eyes blinking up at him in the dimness. She raised one hand to her cheek, her breath catching. Gilbert took it in his, his voice gentle. "You're alright, darling, it's all over."

Anne shifted her leg with a grimace, and he bent down to kiss her forehead. He helped her to take a sip of water, and when she lay back on her pillows, some of the anxiety had faded from her face. "What time is it?" she whispered.

Gilbert grinned. "Just after two. Jeremy was in to check on you an hour ago- he had a late surgery to attend to." He pulled the chair close beside her, ignoring the scowl coming from the nurses' desk. "I must say, you do _not_ come out of anaesthetic well, sweetheart," he said, amused.

Anne gave him a slight smile. "I warned you of that." She lifted her head to look around the almost empty ward, the metal beds standing in orderly rows down each side. "I've never had anyone with me when I've woken up. And where is everyone?"

Gilbert chuckled. "It's a quiet night in here. I'd take advantage of it, and sleep." Anne attempted to pull herself up, and he was quick to steady her against the bed. "Easy, now. No running until morning, at least."

"You're so bossy," she mumbled, a crooked smile on her face.

Gilbert kissed her forehead again, his look tender. "I wouldn't worry. You'll manage me."

Their quiet talk had gained the attention of the nurse, and she strode down the centre aisle with a frown. "Doctor Blythe, what did we tell you?" she hissed crossly.

He lifted his hands up in protest. "I didn't do anything, I swear, she just woke up. I was checking on her."

Anne smiled to see the nurse shoo him off the bed, and she grasped Anne's slim wrist between strong fingers. "Let's see what we have here, Miss Shirley. Goodness- you _do_ look pale," she said bluntly.

Anne exchanged a faint smile with her fiancé, and the nurse clicked her tongue worriedly. "We're not to touch the bandages until Doctor Barnes returns- and he wants you up and walking in just a few days." She shot Gilbert a shrewd look. "Now, you will go home _tomorrow_ , Doctor- it's only on Doctor Warner's word that I am allowing you to stay in my ward overnight." The nurse gave her notes a quick glance. "You'll feel a bit groggy for a day or so- so you'd better get some sleep, Miss Shirley." She gave Gilbert a sharp look, then. " _Now_. There is a bed at the far end of the ward. You will go to sleep there- _soon_ \- and you will put clean sheets on the bed yourself before the other staff arrive. Is that clear?" she said sternly.

Gilbert grinned. "Nurse Winters, you are a gem. Thank you."

She patted Anne on the shoulder and stalked away, leaving a bewildered Anne with Gilbert.

"What?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Anne rubbed her eyes with a yawn. "I don't know if she regards you as her worst enemy, or if she adores you."

"Ah. Just like _you_ , then."

She chuckled sleepily. "I think you know where I ended up on that, Gil."

Gilbert tucked the blankets around her carefully, his hand warm as it lingered on her cheek. "She adores all of us- Jeremy especially. She was cross at me for leaving 'just as she got me trained'," he said, with a grin. "Margaret's run this ward for fifteen years."

Anne's eyes were growing heavier, and she sighed. "What happened?" she asked, her voice thick. "With the hand- I mean, the foot."

He bent down to kiss her softly. "It's still there, sweetheart. How about we talk about it in the morning?"

"Alright. You're very tired, Gil. Go to sleep," she said, her words slurring slightly, making Gilbert chuckle.

"I'll do that. I'll see you in the morning."

He stayed by her side for some time after she fell asleep again, relief radiating through his body. He'd realised that he had felt the dread in her for some time now, and was still kicking himself for not realising its source. Of _course_ she had been worried- he'd grown so used to her ability to remain calm, that he'd missed the signs that she was frightened. Even the day before, she had entered the hospital, her red head held high, and on her face a smile that immediately made others respond in kind. She had spoken with the nurses so easily- until Jeremy had appeared in his white coat, and she had gripped his hand so hard that it bruised his fingers. He'd checked them- nothing but a strain.

Gilbert sighed now, watching her chest rise and fall evenly, in slumber. He had called Susan from Jeremy's office to tell her that the surgery was over, and she had promised to get a message to Diana and his parents. Gilbert smiled. Susan had sounded terribly stiff at first until he realised that she was struggling to keep back her emotions. This was the woman who had cared for Anne so tenderly- and he had realised that she would show the same care for himself and one day for their children as well. He placed his feet up on the bed beside him, his brown head resting against the chair. It would be better for Anne now- they would simply handle everything as it came. She wouldn't be parted from him again.

She missed home, she had said. As they had waited, Anne had blinked away a tear and told him that she longed for their island, for the life they were building in the Glen. He'd chuckled, after watching her being chased around by the staff at Winston house, teasing her about the high life- only to have her eyes blaze with scorn. He smiled. He knew her better than that. No, it was their own home they were waiting for.

The house that they had christened Ingleside was being worked on in their absence. Anne had been reluctant to make changes to it initially, simply assuming that she would become accustomed to the stairs. There was a large room at the end of the hall, one that would make an admirable master bedroom- however Gilbert had vetoed that idea. Anne's recovery would still take time- and he pointed out quite reasonably that the two of them had been sleeping on the ground floor in their respective houses for the past year- in his case, for the past two. After he had sighed theatrically and moaned at the idea of climbing stairs after a long day of work, Anne had thrown her hands in the air with a wry laugh, surrendering. He grinned. He had a feeling that the additions to the house would be something that would benefit them all. Susan would be keeping an eye on the builders while they were away, and had begun stitching curtains for the new bedrooms already.

Through the filmy white curtains now, sheet lightning lit up the dark hospital grounds for a moment, before disappearing into darkness. The thunder continued to grumble away, but it was clear that the storm was dissipating. Gilbert got to his feet then, and after kissing Anne's pale cheek, he moved to the bed the nurse had indicated, removing his tie, jacket and shoes. As he laid down he looked over to where Anne was sleeping peacefully, and smiled. No, it wasn't the same as living in their own home together- but to spend the night in the same room was good enough for now.

* * *

It was ten in the morning when Jeremy made his way through the ward, stopping to greet other patients on the way. He was followed by two young gentlemen holding files, and one of them balancing Jeremy's cup of tea on a notebook. Gilbert snorted at the sight of him, and Anne turned to him in surprise.

"He never used to get them to hold his tea," Gilbert said, amused.

"I see. Is this for the patients' benefit, do you think?" Anne murmured to him, earning a laugh.

"No- I would say _mine_." He grinned as Jeremy approached. "Trying to make me see what I'm missing."

He rose to shake Jeremy's hand, who clapped a hand on his back. "Gentlemen, you remember my colleague, Doctor Blythe; and his lovely fiancée Miss Shirley. Miss Shirley presented with a cutaneous nerve injury, as a result of multiple surgeries to repair a compound fracture of the lower fibula and tibia. The sural nerve was entrapped in a layer of scar tissue, which has now been recovered," Jeremy said, nonchalantly.

Anne smiled kindly at both men, thinking that they seemed so young- and that one of them was looking up at her fiancé with a terrified look on his face. Gilbert seemed perfectly at ease, and Jeremy turned to them with a benevolent look. "Now, run along, you both have an appendectomy at eleven to prepare for."

She watched the two young men scuttle away, and Jeremy turned back to them with a grin.

Gilbert crossed his arms, a twinkle in his eye. "You took on Willoughby."

Jeremy grinned. "He's not bad, either. You never got to see him at his full potential." Anne gave the two of them a bewildered look, and Jeremy pulled up a stool to sit beside her, moving the covers off her foot to check the bandages. "Gil here gave young Doctor Willoughby a rather difficult time of it, while he was here."

Anne turned to Gilbert in consternation. "You did? But why?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "He was a medical student from Laval University- and he was terrible," he said bluntly.

Anne flinched as Jeremy unwrapped the wound, and gave Gilbert a disappointed look. "Gil, you need to be patient with those under your tutelage- children need to feel like they can learn in a safe environment."

Jeremy gave a snort. "He wasn't a child, Anne. And I will admit that he wasn't very promising at first."

"He lost a patient of mine," Gilbert grumbled.

Anne's face fell. "Oh, Gil. I know how deeply you feel it when you lose a patient, but _still_ -"

"No, Anne, _lost_ ," Gilbert interrupted, wryly. "As in misplaced. A very frightened old man was found wandering the shrubberies outside, instead of where I wanted him to be taken before an acute heart procedure. I had to delay it a day because he was so worked up- I was afraid he wouldn't make it if I continued."

Anne paled. "Oh, Gilbert."

Jeremy sat back with a smirk, looking happily at the neat line of sutures on Anne's leg. "And so Gilbert blasted the poor fellow to kingdom come- and only a few months before he left for the island, too." He chuckled, helping Anne to sit up to admire his work. "I suppose I should be thanking you, really. He was never careless again. I'm hopeful that he'll turn out well."

Anne shook her head, amused. "Well, if you were one of my staff, Gilbert, I would still have disciplined you for terrorising a student."

Gilbert looked at her indignantly. "I did _not_ do that! I was usually very good with the medical students."

Jeremy chuckled. "He was better than the fellows who took us on, I'll grant you that. They made you step smartly." He turned to Anne, rubbing his hands together. "Now, it's time to pay me some attention- thank you. The surgery went extremely well. After examining the injury, I can see why they repaired you in a rush last time- life over limb, and all that. We've corrected most of it though, and I'm hopeful that the nerves will repair over time. Also, I have a little souvenir for you." Anne was handed a jar from Jeremy's pocket, containing a small, ivory fragment. Gilbert glanced across at her, alarmed. "A piece of bone was left floating around after the break," he said brightly. "I believe this has been causing some of the pain and bruising around the site, and most likely affected the sensation in your foot as well. So- I removed it. And here it is."

Gilbert was quicker than Jeremy to see that Anne's face had taken on a definite green tint at the sight of the shard, and as she swayed slightly, her breathing was shallow. Gilbert caught her, easing her shoulders back onto the pillow. His voice was soothing as he bent over her. "Breathe in and out, sweetheart, that's right." He rubbed her cold hands between his own, smiling at the faint groan she gave as she winced. "I'm sure Jeremy didn't mean to put a big foot in his even bigger mouth," he said, scowling at his friend, and tossing him the offending jar.

Jeremy gave a wary look at the bowl beside Anne's bed. "He's right, Anne, that was terribly thoughtless of me. I sometimes forget that I'm not lecturing students." He had a wry grin on his face, seeing Gilbert had the situation well in hand. "You know, Gil always did have the better bedside manner."

Anne opened one eye to glare at her doctor, making Gilbert laugh as she swallowed, her voice thick. "Jeremy, destroy that souvenir."

Jeremy tucked the jar into his pocket after an abject apology, and soon left on his rounds. Gilbert turned to stroke Anne's pale cheek with a grin. "Well, I think the danger is past now. I thought you were going to faint on me, Anne-girl."

She managed a slight chuckle as looked up at him. "At least I didn't throw up, this time."

Gilbert contented himself with a smile, resolving to not let her look at Jeremy's notes, either.

* * *

When the warm summer winds were blowing through the city, and the skies had been clear and blue for a week, a triumphant Gilbert carried Anne from the carriage up the steps of the Winston house, to be met by Penny and her mother. The two of them had been frequent visitors to the hospital room through her recovery, and Penny chattered to Anne happily as she was assisted into her room.

"Anne, I am so glad to have you back! Jeremy said you were doing very well, and I hated to think of you in that smelly old hospital any longer!" she said indignantly.

As Gilbert sat her on the comfortable sofa in the room, he stood up with a relieved sigh, and Anne chuckled.

"Thank you, dearest," she said to him softly, and turned back to Penny. "It is lovely to be back here," she said frankly, as Louisa brought a pillow across to place her foot on. "Although to be fair, the hospital was much better than I had expected."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Anne, why do you think I wanted you to come to Montreal? It's got to be one of the most modern and well-equipped hospitals Canada has." He turned to Penny then, with a smile. "Oh- and Jeremy said to tell you he would be by tonight for supper."

"Excellent," Louisa said, suddenly businesslike. "Penny, darling, would you be sure to tell Mrs Waters to prepare the custard tart that he likes? And your father has requested oysters tonight." As soon as Penny left the room, she turned to Anne with a kind smile. "Now, is there anything we can do for you right now, dear? Perhaps you would like a quiet meal in here tonight?"

Anne chuckled. "No, indeed, Mrs Winston- Doctor Barnes has ordered me to practice walking, and practice I shall- I should very much like to join you all this evening." She caught Gilbert's eye, and added hastily- "After a nap, which of course I am very happy to have."

Louisa chuckled. "I can't fault him for being concerned, Anne, no doubt it has been a very long eight days for you."

Anne watched her curiously, as Louisa opened a wardrobe on one side of the room, and lifted a large box out of it. She carried it to the bed with a bright smile. "Now, Gilbert, I feel quite sure you haven't slept as well as you usually do while Anne was in the hospital," she began. "Perhaps you require a nap upstairs as well?"

Gilbert shrugged easily. "No, I'm quite well rested, in fact, thank you."

"Oh. Then perhaps you might like to see what Andrew is doing?" she suggested.

"Didn't he take Lizzie over to Stephen's house, Mrs Winston?" he said, frowning.

Louisa turned to him with a faintly exasperated look. "Gilbert, dear, how did your mother tell you to leave the room when she had something she wished to discuss that wasn't for your ears?"

Gilbert's eyes widened in shock, and he gave a shame-faced laugh. "Oh- er, she would just tell me to run along, I suppose."

"Wonderful, dear. Then run along," Louisa said, amused. "I have something that I wish to discuss with your fiancée, and it is not for you to overhear at this time."

Gilbert escaped out of the door in record time, pausing to laugh as he crossed the white tiled floor. _Women's_ business, indeed.

Inside the room, Louisa sat down beside Anne with a big smile. "I'm sorry, dear, I wasn't sure if he was willing to leave you just yet- and I did want to show you this. Some of your items have arrived."

Anne shifted on the cushions, surprised. "Really? It hasn't even been a fortnight."

Louisa chuckled. "This is Madame Sylvian, dear. She takes great pride in exceeding expectations. Would you like to see?"

Louisa rang the bell for Amanda, and the women took their time sorting through the box, finding delicate undergarments, several pretty gowns, and accessories enough to gladden the heart of any girl. Anne declared herself thoroughly spoiled, pausing to brush the fabric of a fine, tailored walking suit in a rich green.

Louisa smiled, pleased. "I believe the wedding dress will be along next week- and anything that does not arrive in time, we will simply send on, dear." Her brow was worried, then. "Anne, are you quite sure you will be ready to travel in a fortnight?"

Anne smiled, setting a small box of gloves aside. "I think so, Mrs Winston. Gilbert is confident that I will be ready in time, and we really must return soon- we have so much to prepare for the wedding. I hate to think of Susan carrying so much extra responsibility on her own."

Louisa folded a chemise in capable hands, laying it in the box carefully. "I dare say she will have help from your families, in any case," she commented.

Anne smiled, thinking of Diana and Sonia's heads bent over a calendar on the day before they left Avonlea. "She will indeed." There was a brief pang in her heart for the wedding Marilla would not get to see, however, just as quickly she drew in a calming breath. Surely, somehow Marilla would know.

Louisa sat down with Anne again, her eyes kind. "Now, dear, aside from everything that is yet to come, is there anything else you need? Anything you may require for the wedding? I shouldn't like you to leave without checking."

Anne gave her a startled look. "Oh- I think I have everything I could need, Mrs Winston." She paused then, her cheeks flushing. "Well- that is, I have everything that is necessary."

"I'm so glad, dear." Louisa then studied the young woman before her. "Is there anything special you would like?"

Anne's cheeks were pink, and she gave a slight chuckle. She recalled that of course, Mrs Winston would understand- and as a happily married woman of over thirty years, she would surely feel more at ease discussing this with her, rather than her daughter.

"Well, there _was_ something-"

Louisa smiled knowingly. "Something perhaps, a little memorable for a wedding night?"

Anne laughed, her cheeks warm. "I suppose so, yes. I have all manner of undergarments and hosiery and nightwear being made, however, I didn't see anything that I-"

Louisa placed her hand over Anne's with a twinkling smile, stopping Anne. "I confess I didn't see anything of that kind, myself, my dear- hence, my question. Now, I believe I know just the place, darling, if you wish I can take care of it this week. Just tell me what you had in mind."

* * *

By the time a fortnight had passed, on Anne and Gilbert's last afternoon in the old house, Jeremy Barnes studied Anne's walk along the carpeted halls of the Winston house, looking pleased. "You know, Anne, I do think you've improved. Can you feel the foot now?"

Anne looked down, a slight frown on her face. "Not all the time- and when I _can_ it feels slightly odd- hot and cold, and sometimes like little pins and needles are prickling me."

Jeremy came up to her with her walking stick to rest on. "That's actually a good sign," he said thoughtfully. "It will take some time for the nerves to recover- you might need to be patient with yourself."

Anne stood up straight, a slight smile on her face. "It's no matter. I can wait."

Jeremy sat down on a long sofa in the foyer, smiling at the sound of Gilbert talking with the Winston family in the sitting room- Andrew and Penny's brothers had come home for the last evening with everyone, and Lizzie was wild with excitement at playing with Uncle Stephen's young children again. He turned back to Anne appraisingly.

"When I come to the island, I'd like to check your foot again, with your permission. I've been asked to present a paper to the university on recovery rates of cutaneous nerve injury, and your case is one of two I would like to discuss, if I may."

Anne chuckled, moving to sit with him with a thankful sigh. Over the past month, Jeremy had become a constant figure in her life, taking over the role Gilbert had relinquished. He lectured her and scolded, pushed her to exercise and teased her as none of her doctors in the past would have dared to do. Anne had come to trust him as implicitly as Gilbert himself could- not that she would give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Gilbert had only smiled. While at times he had to force himself to not intervene with her, not to jump and react at every ache, every furrowed brow Anne showed, he had all the satisfaction of being there when the visit ended- and he was sensible to the fact that he would not have enjoyed being the object of her frustration from time to time. Jeremy had handled it easily enough, and Gilbert smiled at the way he would put his bag in a corner, and go with brightening eyes to where Penny poured his tea, and he himself could take Anne in his arms, her adoring look for him alone.

Anne now looked up at Jeremy consideringly. "As long as I needn't read the report, you may do as you like. Is that happening after the wedding?" Jeremy nodded, his smile easy. "Now, you will be coming to the island with the Winstons, won't you?" she asked innocently. "It would only be sensible to travel together."

Jeremy gave her an amused look. "Is there something you want to ask me, Anne?"

She smiled cheekily, brushing her red curls back from her forehead. "There is nothing so wonderful as a love story, Jeremy. I only want to see others as happy as I am."

He folded his arms, the two of them relaxing away from the others for a time. "You wouldn't want me to upstage your own wedding, would you, Anne?"

Anne turned to him then, serious. "That isn't what you are waiting for, is it?"

He chuckled. "Well, maybe. A wedding is hardly the time for the best man and bridesmaid to announce an engagement."

"Jeremy, you shouldn't wait," she said firmly. "If you and Penny are both sure, then Gilbert and I would be so happy for you- we wouldn't mind a bit." She gave him a slight smile. "Will you come and see us on the island from time to time?"

Jeremy chuckled. "Knowing Penny's family, probably more often than I can afford to be away from the hospital. Of course I'll come."

Anne heard Gilbert's laughter, and stood up then. "Well, Doctor Barnes, thank you for all of the time you have given me," Anne said lightly, her sincerity nevertheless apparent.

Jeremy chuckled, and offered her his arm to walk across the foyer. As they walked, he gave her a knowing grin. "I was brilliant, wasn't I? Admit it, I'm the best doctor you've ever had."

As they arrived in the doorway to the spacious sitting room, Anne saw Gilbert's eyes light up, and he strode across the room toward her with a spring in his step.

Anne couldn't keep the smile off her face, then. "That may be, Jeremy. But I confess that Gilbert will always be my favourite."

Later that evening, after a boisterous meal that had caused even Mr Winston to complain that the noise his family created had never been equalled, Anne and Gilbert strolled out to the veranda in the moonlight. Jeremy and Penny had wandered away in the direction of the oasis, and Anne smiled as Jeremy gave her a wink. The two of them sat on a loveseat, content to look out on the still night together. Gilbert was miles away, thinking of all that they had to do to be ready for the evening train to Halifax, when he turned at Anne's words.

"Gil?"

"Yes, Anne-girl?"

She laid her head on his shoulder, smiling at the familiar smell of his coat. "I was thinking about something that Penny said. That I brought you back to life again."

He smiled, running his thumb over her hand. "I have no problem with that."

Anne was silent for almost a minute, and when she spoke it was quiet. "I _changed_ , Gil."

He pulled away with a slight frown. "I suppose we both did."

Anne shook her head. "I know- but I didn't realise what I had lost, exactly." He watched her intently, and she swallowed. "Somehow, when I fell, I stopped trusting people. And I don't even know why." He followed her troubled gaze, waiting for her to explain. "You know where I came from- at least in part. And yet despite that, I arrived at Green Gables still believing the best of people."

Gilbert's smile twisted on his lean face. "I know. It's one of the things people love about you, sweetheart."

"So what does it say about me that I stopped after I was hurt?" she said quietly. "I had help, I people who put themselves out to accommodate me- and somehow, I made it through all of that, alive. But I stopped being able to trust- I held back from Marilla, Diana, and everyone else in my world. I _still_ struggle to accept help from people- you have no idea how I had to force myself to ask Susan to help me with every little thing. And I know you and I had our differences, but I couldn't even tell you when I knew how badly I was hurt in the forest that day. I was going to let you walk away from me then," she said, with painful candour.

Gilbert's jaw set. "I knew that you were hurt, Anne. I wouldn't have gone," he said sternly. "No matter what was going on between us."

Anne nodded regretfully. "I know that. But I didn't even trust you as a physician. I didn't have faith in anyone."

He placed his arms around her, bending to kiss the top of her head. "Alright, you didn't," he said softly. "What does that have to do with now?"

Anne's eyes were stormy. "Doesn't that bother you, that I could change so much, Gilbert? That I still fight people worrying or fussing, even when I know that they are right- that I fight you, even when I know better than to do that. I'm worried that I've lost something of myself- and I can't claim that that has gone away, even with you in my life. Doesn't that say there is something broken, inside of me? Where is the part of me that believed only the best?"

Gilbert bent down to look into the grey eyes he loved. "Anne-girl, you and I aren't the people who left Avonlea for Redmond so many years ago," he said softly. "We've grown, and changed and developed; we've taken some hits, and we have the scars to show for it. If everything had gone according to some kinder plan, we could still have them. We don't know what could have happened to us over the years. But _this_ \- you and me- _this_ hasn't changed, Anne. You are still my best friend. You are still the girl I fell in love with- and no matter what happens, you and I just keep coming back here. Together." He smiled at her then, watching her look soften. "Who we _are_ hasn't changed, Anne- not really. Those other things- the things in us that were affected by hurt and fear are only on the surface. You- are incredibly brave-" he kissed her cheek, "you are perfectly beautiful," he said, moving his lips to her nose," and you are absolutely _indomitable_ , Anne Shirley." He sat back and grinned at her then. "And I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to keep up with you."

Anne threw her arms around his neck, her eyes glittering with both tears and laughter. "Gilbert Blythe, I do believe you could make me believe in _anything_."

"Of course I can," he said cheekily. "Because I'm believing in _you_."


	38. Chapter 38

**Beloved people! I'll say it again, transitional chapters are paaaaaaaainful. Necessary, but painful- and it took a solid week of hammering this particular one out. (You know, between family and work and sleep and my favourite bit: a quick break last night to go and see the third Thor movie. It's such a delightfully Aussie one!)**

 **Nevertheless, I am quite pleased with the result. There are two chapters to go before the epilogue- and then as the ultimate of finales, a bonus for you all AFTER the epilogue, where I will attempt to answer your questions about Gilbert and Anne's Happily Ever After- what happened to Leslie? How many children did they have, who were they, and did any of them have to go to war? What did Owen do when he found out Anne and Gil got married? What** **happened to Andrew? Do Penny and Jeremy get married? And if Gilbert wasn't talking about Anne in delirium, _what was he talking about?_ This last 'chapter' will be more of a letter to you all- and consider that my thanks for coming with me on this journey, one that has made me work harder to write than I ever have before. I've loved it- and I'm so grateful to you all for the way you have responded to it.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Five…**

 **Chapter 38**

It was four weary travellers who alighted on the platform at Glen St Mary on an early July afternoon, to be met by a Susan almost bursting with excitement. Anne went straight into her housekeeper's arms, who then held her at arm's length to inspect her.

"Anne dearie, where is your walking stick?" she said, scandalised.

Gilbert handed it to his fiancée with a smile. "Here, Susan. She just wanted to show off a little."

" _Gilbert Blythe_!" Anne said indignantly, making him laugh.

"She loves calling me that," he commented cheekily. He winked at Anne then, leaving them to talk as Andrew walked up with a tired and grumpy Lizzie in his arms.

"Remind me not to do that again," Andrew said, settling the little girl down with a groan. "I'm here to stay. Never going anywhere ever again."

Gilbert began to laugh, bending to pick up the hand luggage Anne had placed down. "Bit over-dramatic, don't you think? And you promised your parents you'd go back every year."

"Well, I'm sick next summer," Andrew said crossly. "I will be suffering from the black plague and can't travel."

"Fine. Just don't expect me to be caring for you and your imaginary illnesses."

Gilbert stood still for a moment, relishing in the freshness of the air. Compared to the smoke of the train and the atmosphere of the big cities, the breeze that hit the travellers when they alighted was fresh and cool, carrying the tang of the firs and the smell of the distant shore. He turned to greet the station master, who was coming up behind the gentlemen with a trolley of bags from the train.

"Doc, I don't mind telling you that it's good to have you home again." He looked slightly guilty then and hurried on. "Not that the young doc isn't any good- he fixed ma's knee up real good- but just doesn't know us all like you do." Andrew snorted, no doubt in amusement at the same thing Gilbert noticed- when exactly had _he_ stopped being the 'young' doc himself? Gilbert chuckled, offering his hand for a hearty handshake.

"It's alright. I'm glad to be back home too."

"Until you're off for your honeymoon, at least," Stan said easily, looking toward Anne, her arm casually looped through Susan's as they chatted. "Susan Baker tells me the wedding is soon, Doc."

Gilbert's smile was huge. "In a month," he said proudly, turning to watch her. "Only four weeks to go. Isn't she beautiful?"

Stan grinned. "Ah, you've got it bad, Doctor Blythe- but she is, for all that. Folks have been wondering what took you so long- they said you grew up together."

Gilbert laughed somewhat wryly. "Timing, Stan. Timing is everything."

He moved then to collect the bags, smiling at the extra trunk that had been needed to transport the trousseau home again. Even then, on the day they had left he had heard Penny assuring Anne that if she needed anything else, she only had to write, and she would take care of it herself. Anne had been most adamant that she had everything she needed, privately admitting to Gilbert that she shouldn't need to buy anything for several years. He'd only smiled. He knew she'd done it for his sake.

The clothing had been a stubbornly fought battle between the two of them, in the days leading up to the operation. Anne had arrived home exhausted from the first day of shopping, her auburn brows knitted in concern. When the Winston women had gone upstairs to rest, he had set her on the sofa beside him in the dim parlour, the curtains drawn by the staff to block out the afternoon sunlight.

"What troubles you, sweetheart?"

"What makes you think something is?"

Gilbert bent in close until his nose touched her own. "Because I can tell. How did it all go today?"

Anne's look was chagrined. "Penny and Mrs Winston have been so kind, Gil-"

"Yes, but that wasn't what I asked," he reminded her.

Anne smiled at him regretfully. "I told them what I was looking for, and I hated to disappoint them, however, I simply don't need what they are suggesting."

Gilbert turned to face her, his look kind. "Anne, is it really about need, at this point?"

She frowned, unable to follow his logic. "Gilbert, I need a wedding dress, and perhaps a gown or two. The rest I can do at home."

"But then why not take care of it here, when we have the time and opportunity?" he said, unanswerably. "We'll only have a month when we get home, sweetheart- we'll be readying Ingleside, preparing to leave two other houses, not to mention all of the fuss of the wedding."

Anne sighed in exasperation. "And that is _another_ reason not to spend a fortune on clothing that I do not need!"

"Well, I for one would like to see you get things that you do not need!" he shot back, surprising her with his vehemence. "We're not having an elaborate wedding, the house is paid for, and I have a successful practice- not to mention that the school will still be paying you into next year. We don't 'need' anything, apart from a bit of furniture." He'd eyed her sternly, then. "Anne, I've watched you make practical decisions, over and over in the past nine months. I honour and respect you for the way that you did- and it was important in that season," he said, his voice softening. "But it's _over_ now. I know that you don't find your value in things- but for once, I would like to see you buy something, purely because you enjoyed it."

Anne rose to her knees on the settee, quite taken aback at his emotion. She took his face in her hands, studying him carefully. " _Why_ , Gilbert?"

"I just _told_ you why!"

She smiled, unafraid of his ire. "Yes, but it's irrational, dearest. And that is most unlike you."

He scowled, nevertheless kissing her palm gently. "I've never been rational about you."

She chuckled. "That much is obvious." She looked at him tenderly. "Do you not see that I have you? That's all I need. And I thought you wanted to keep everything simple."

Gilbert grinned. "That was until you brought up the inappropriate nightwear."

Anne laughed, her cheeks warming. "Trust you to not forget that, dearest."

Gilbert's eyes traced the delicate lines of her face and sighed. "Look, Anne, I can just as easily have Penny write down everything, and I'll get her to order it for you anyway," he said frankly with a shrug. "I _want_ this for you. We will be here for a month in any case- and I would love to see you simply enjoy yourself shopping."

Anne's nose wrinkled. "Which means-"

"Everything."

"Within reason."

"No, slightly outside of reason," he retorted. "Shall we see what Mrs Winston thinks? I'm sure she can put together a sizable list-"

Anne flung her hands up, her silver laugh echoing in the large room. "Gilbert Blythe, if this is how you plan on winning arguments in the future, I can assure you that-" Her voice was only broken off by the sensation of his warm lips on the curve of her neck, his large hand splayed across the small of her back possessively. "Oh, alright, Gil," she murmured with a dreamy sigh, her fingers in his brown curls. "I give in."

* * *

When Gilbert had dropped everyone at home, and after parting with Anne with definite reluctance, he drove the short distance to his house with a sigh. Inside, he found that Susan had scrubbed it within an inch of its life, and the windows gleamed quite extraordinarily. He gave a small chuckle. He thought he'd done a rather good job of keeping the house over the last few months- however, Susan's efforts had made his own look paltry. There was food in the pantry, and clean clothes hanging on the rail, a pile of mail that Susan had collected, and a heavily scribbled-in notebook that Doctor Shelby had left for Gilbert to peruse. He had spoken to the young man on the telephone while he was away about various patients, and Susan reported that _Miss Cornelia_ had admitted that there was some sense to him. For a stranger and a young man, there was no higher praise that Miss Cornelia could give. He smiled. For the next month, Doctor Shelby would work alongside him, and he would step into the breach again while he and Anne were away on their honeymoon.

Gilbert dropped his bags on the floor of his room and fell onto the bed with a sigh. He'd been so grateful for the opportunity to go with Anne- not that he had seriously considered her going without him. Gilbert's respite in Montreal was shamefully overdue. He'd not had a holiday since the summer after they had graduated- and typhoid had been a definite fly in the ointment that year. The summer afterwards he had worked at the paper- for the second, he had gone to work on the railway out west. Gilbert shuddered in remembrance. Long, backbreaking days, dirt that took weeks to disappear after scrubbing until his skin was raw, and constant calls away from his textbooks at night just to check Johnston's elbow- or Flanagan's abscess- or cure the bosses' hangover. They hadn't cared that he was only a second-year medical student- only that he was present and wouldn't charge.

Gilbert looked back soberly at the decisions he had made. He'd needed to work to pay his way- the Cooper had only covered so much. Always in the back of his mind was the practice he would need to set up one day, the supplies he would need, especially if he needed to travel. Montreal hadn't seemed a reality at first- in his final year, he'd wondered if he should simply head for the Glen after graduation. He and Jeremy had travelled instead to the great hospital, with glowing letters of recommendation from the head of the medical school. They had stayed in a dingy hotel Gilbert had found in the French quarter of the city, with chattering young ladies watching the handsome men exit the building, giggling when Jeremy asked them for directions to the hospital in his best attempt at French.

After a brief nap in his own bed, Gilbert arose and began to unpack his bag as the shadows of the day lengthened. He stretched out stiff and sore muscles, thinking that the trip home had not been widely different from the one they had taken a month ago- Lizzie had caught a slight cold from one of her cousins and was consequently more subdued than she had been on the long trip to Montreal. She was happy to doze on her father's lap for much of the journey and even forgot to demand ice cream at every station. Anne, on the other hand, had insisted on walking up and down the aisles carefully, shooing Gilbert back into his seat to relax. She well remembered the stiffness she had felt at the other end, and wanted to ease Susan's mind by walking off the train by herself.

When he was done, Gilbert looked around the dingy bedroom, realising that his time in this house was coming to a close. The home he had pulled around him with Anne's return to his life had only been temporary- it had never truly been home. There was another house waiting- a big, rambling house with wide verandas, and welcoming doors, rooms that waited to be filled with life and laughter. There would be firelight gleaming on cold winter nights, pictures of loved ones on the mantelpiece and pools of sunlight falling on wooden floors. There was a garden where pixies would dwell, and trees to gladden Anne's heart- and then Gilbert's heart seemed to fill, almost to bursting. The room that had been occupying his attention most of all- the one in which they would see the sunrise together in the morning, and see the starlight from the safe haven of their bed. That Anne Shirley would be sharing it with him in only a matter of weeks- well, surely that had to make him the luckiest fellow on earth.

* * *

On a windy evening, the kind that often foretold rain along the shore, Miss Cornelia settled in the armchair at Rosewood cottage, her sewing on her lap, and a look of satisfaction on her round, kind face.

"I've been coming to see you for a week now, Anne- it's always hard to get away from the farm in the summer. It is good to have you and the doctor back, Anne dearie. You look well rested- had you a nice time?"

Anne smiled. "I did- once the operation was done, in any case. I don't think I realised how tired I was after the school year until I was ordered to stay in bed for a week or so- I had to pretend to protest a little so that Gilbert wouldn't worry about me," Anne said candidly.

Susan clucked at her anxiously. "And yet you won't stay in bed when I suggest it!"

Anne laughed. "Susan dear, I have had nothing to do this week but rest- and I have had a marvellous time. The garden is coming along beautifully, and Gilbert says that the house is nearly finished- and you won't let me into the kitchen at all! I should say I am very well rested."

Miss Cornelia and Susan had been working on plans for the wedding with the young couple, trying to house the various families who would be travelling in for the wedding. Diana's parents would stay with Mr and Mrs Elliot, and Diana's own family would be staying at the cottage. Gilbert's parents would be at his house with Jeremy- and a worried Anne had suggested that perhaps anyone else could be housed at Ingleside. To this, Gilbert was firm in his refusal. He had organised a honeymoon that was as secluded and romantic as either he or Anne could wish- however, he was adamant that their wedding night would be spent in their own home.

This, however, was still several weeks away, and Miss Cornelia drew the cotton from her basket, keen to discuss with Anne the goings on of the Glen.

"We've had some mischief makers writing on fences, Anne dearie- I suspect the young Reece boys are involved. Mrs Reece just doesn't understand the concept of discipline," she said, exasperated. "Lord help us, the whole Glen would join in, if only she would put herself out a little. I do hate to see children becoming spoiled. And Sally Newman has finally found herself a man- her father didn't like him too much at first until he discovered that he has a farm that he will inherit someday. That made him look more appealing, I understand. Oh- and while you were away, Moira Douglas quit the choir again."

Susan protested at that. "She was rather provoked, you must admit that."

Miss Cornelia grimaced. "If her husband wasn't the director, or he had a stiffer backbone, she wouldn't have been asked to sing in the first place. It isn't surprising that a visiting minister complained." She chuckled then, placing even stitches on the bodice of a child's dress. "Old Captain Jim used to tell me that the Almighty was able to tell the difference between the voice of a crow and a nightingale. That may be, but our poor congregation has been subjected to the former a lot more."

Anne smiled, the pile of golden ruffles in her lap for the bedroom curtains steadily growing. Gilbert had asked her not to visit while the room was being finished, and Anne had agreed only if she was first supplied the dimensions she required. "He was fond of listening to music, Miss Cornelia?"

Cornelia chuckled. "I don't know dearie- but he was a rare old fellow. The shore hasn't been the same since he died."

Susan nodded, industriously stitching new hand towels. "That it hasn't. Anne, dearie, have you decided who will perform the wedding ceremony?"

Anne chuckled. "Yes, we have, at last. We were waiting to hear back from Kingsport. I should have loved to have had Reverend Allen- we did love him so. We received word from the Allens last week, and unfortunately, they will not be able to make it for the wedding. However the Reverend Jo and his wife _are_ coming, much to our delight, and Phillipa assures me that he is raring to go."

Miss Cornelia looked at Anne in consternation. "That's a rather odd way for a minister to refer to something as solemn as a marriage," she commented, and Anne began to laugh.

"Oh, that wasn't Jo at all- that was Phil. You couldn't imagine anything further from solemn, in fact. She is a darling, though. She was in college with Gilbert and I many years ago. I am delighted that they could come- while I am sure that Reverend Toomey may be a very able minister-" she said before Mrs Marshall Elliot snorted inelegantly.

Susan spoke up then. "He is not the most cheerful of souls, I grant you."

"His mother was the same, Anne dearie. She used to visit the manse twice a year- much to his poor wife's consternation. On her last visit he took as his text- "It is all meaningless," Miss Cornelia said dryly. "It's the first time I ever heard that used for a Christmas message."

* * *

The following week, only two weeks before the wedding, Anne opened the door of the cottage to greet Gilbert's beaming face. She was quick to throw her arms around his neck, meeting him with a warm, lingering kiss.

"Is this what I can expect when I come home every day?" Gilbert said, grinning, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

Anne closed her eyes blissfully as his lips wandered to her cheeks and her hair and her forehead. "Every day, dearest." She frowned then, her hand brushing his cheek. "You do look tired, Gil."

He brushed off her concern with a shrug. "Justin wanted a second opinion on a patient- we went out to see him after rounds." He studied her carefully then. "And how are you, sweetheart? Do you feel up to a trip to the house?"

Anne looked at him indulgently, seeing the way he was almost bouncing on his heels. "Of course- let me go and tell Susan."

Within minutes they were heading toward Ingleside, talking about preparations for the wedding to come. Diana and Fred would come several days before the wedding, as would the Blythes. Sonia had written that they would be away from the farm for ten days- the longest John had been away from it since Alberta. Jerry Boute would be caring for the property while they were away, and John could be heard reassuring his cows that 'Uncle' George would make sure that they weren't overfed this time.

Gilbert lifted Anne down from the buggy, watching with pleasure the smile on her face. She walked up the pathway before him, and he studied her gait carefully. There was certainly a visible improvement since the operation- she was leaning on her stick less, and walking taller- something that made him smile. As he looked toward the future though, he could only suppose that there would be days when she wouldn't be so steady. A slightly discomposed Anne had told him that she had fallen only the day before- and that he mustn't worry. Wisely, he'd said nothing, but bandaged and soothed and held her close. It was still early days- but Gilbert sighed. In Montreal she had shared her fear that he would not accept it if she didn't recover. It wasn't him fighting this, he had realised- it was Anne herself.

She turned back to him then from the step, and he shook off his distraction. He walked to her, his feet crushing the mint that grew thickly by the stones, and wrapped his arms around her slim form.

Anne kissed him lightly, pulling back to study him. "What is it?" she asked softly.

Gilbert only shook his head, his heart full. "I'm just happy."

Anne beamed at him, taking his hand. "As am I. Now, show me our home, darling."

Gilbert unlocked the door, a task made all the more difficult when he refused to release Anne's hand. This done, the door opened into the spacious living room, and Anne looked around her with delighted eyes. She had admired the house immediately- comfortable and spacious, rooms that had character and warmth. She walked into the room, looking around at the furniture that was gradually being added to. Marilla's sideboard was there now, as was the desk Anne had studied at in the parlour at Green Gables. There were the round, braided mats that Marilla had made, and Mrs Lynde had insisted months ago that Anne take several of the cotton warp quilts she had pieced while Anne was in Summerside, made against the day when Anne would marry. Slowly, Anne found herself integrating pieces of her older life into the new one she and Gilbert were creating. There was a lingering ache in her from time to time as she did so- but even this was right, she decided. It was important to remember- and gradually, healing would begin to take place.

The house looked as it had the last time she had visited- except for a brand new set of doors on the east wing, the place they had selected for the new rooms. Gilbert took her hand in his and smiled. "Shall we?"

The two of them moved into the bedroom, and Anne smiled in pleasure at the lightness of the room, and the gleam of the wooden floors. It was unfurnished as yet, and she could see it taking shape in her mind- the filmy, yellow curtains on the window, and heavier drapes that would allow Gilbert to sleep in the daytime when necessary. The walls were the next thing that made her smile- after a day spent matching wallpapers and fabrics, Anne had selected a pale gold paper with intricate patterns of ivy traced over it. Susan had been partial herself to a bold rose paper- and Anne had only laughed, commenting that she and Gilbert were creatures of the woods- their room should be dressed accordingly. Susan's new room was then rose-spattered, much to her satisfaction.

Anne turned in time to see Gilbert pulling back the makeshift curtains, and her eyes widened in surprise. Behind them was a wide window seat, that overlooked the gardens and the grove of trees behind them.

"When did you decide on this, Gil?" she asked, her voice showing her delight. To her surprise, Gilbert's face flushed, and she stopped in her tracks. As a smile blossomed on her face, she drew close to her suddenly shy fiancé. "What is it about a window seat that should make you blush, dearest?"

Gilbert laughed, a hand coming up to ruffle his brown curls. "Well, it's the timing of the decision, I suppose." At Anne's raised eyebrow, he grinned sheepishly. "I was nineteen." Anne gave a slight choke of shock, her grey eyes twinkling, and he put his arms around her. "I used to come and pick you up. To go for walks, I mean."

Anne watched him in surprise. "From Green Gables?"

He nodded. "And your window looked down over the gate- and sometimes I used to wonder if you were standing, or kneeling there- or if it was comfortable for you-"

Anne looked at him in some amazement. "I would never have guessed you put so much thought into it, Gil."

His smile twisted mischievously. "I don't think you really want to know everything I was thinking about back then. Anyway, I had what I thought was a very sensible idea at the time- that you really should have a window seat to dream at. And- back then, when I had no real right to do so, I decided that our bedroom would have to have one."

Anne's laugh was sweet, slipping her arms around him. "That _was_ quite audacious, my darling- and showed considerable confidence in yourself. Justifiably, too, it seems. Blythes _are_ known for working hard to get what they want, aren't they?"

He snatched her close to kiss her, with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Yes. And I wanted _you_."

After Anne had thoroughly explored every part of the new bedroom, and the small room that led from it that would one day become the nursery, the two of them sat on a chaise that Mrs Morgan had left behind, a hideous orange and black piece of furniture. Susan wouldn't expect them home for dinner for an hour or so, and the two of them sat in silence, enjoying the peace and quiet. Anne relaxed in Gilbert's arms, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. He seemed content to be silent as well, having been up with babies for the past two nights. After a time he roused himself and turned to her, aware of how easily he could fall asleep again.

"What are you thinking of, Anne-girl?" he asked softly.

Anne gave a sigh of contentment. "Oh, that soon the wedding will be over, and we will be alone here together."

She felt his chuckle reverberate through her, and smiled. "Well, until we go on our honeymoon, at least. And no doubt Susan will be over each day to make sure we don't need anything."

Anne's cheeks were pink. "It might be a good plan to set up a time for her to come during the day."

"Why? It isn't as if she needs to-"

She chuckled. "I suppose that I meant that we might be thankful for some warning if she is coming."

"Really?"

Anne turned to him then, her blush deepening. "Gilbert, I do believe you are more in need of sleep than I realised- I am _not_ being cryptic."

He sighed. "Probably not. But have pity on me, Anne-girl, spell it out for your tired almost-husband."

She looked at him lovingly and stood up to settle on his lap. He gave her an intrigued look, his arms surrounding her easily.

"I thought it might be a good idea for us to not to be surprised if we happen to be otherwise _occupied_ , that's all."

Gilbert watched her carefully, and then burst into delighted laughter. "Ah, that's where you were heading- yes, alright, I see your point; let's give her a time then."

Anne's forehead rested against his own, her eyes closed. "We do need someone, and I can't think of anyone we would rather have than Susan, but I do wish we had a little time on our own as well."

Gilbert grinned. "Well, I have a little surprise for you. We're leaving for our honeymoon just two days after the wedding."

Anne turned in his arms, searching his face. "Are you sure? I thought you didn't want us to rush away."

He smiled, kissing the fingers that tenderly stroked his cheeks. "It occurs to me that people are not going to call on Justin if I'm still in town- the last week has certainly proved that. I thought that after all this time, you and I deserve some time to ourselves." His fingers traced her own, and he gave her a loving look. "Did you know I planned a honeymoon out for us all those years ago too?" Her eyes were enormous, and she stared at him in shock as he continued. "I planned that we would go to a distant shore, and we would stay in a wonderful hotel where all of our needs were catered for, and we wouldn't have anything to do but love each other."

Anne's cheeks heated, and her eyelashes lowered. "That sounds wonderful."

Gilbert bent to gaze into her eyes with a smile. "It does. And that's what we're doing. The summer I worked on the railway, I stopped in Victoria on my way back to Redmond. It's a beautiful town- and when it came time to start thinking about a honeymoon for us, I couldn't get it out of my mind. So, we are spending two weeks in one of Victoria's most exclusive hotels, and we will have staff to see to our every whim. And I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to _that_."

Anne began to laugh in delight, throwing her arms around his neck. "It's wonderful, Gil. I did wonder how we would avoid your loyal patients, dearest. They adore you."

"Like you do?"

She beamed. "They couldn't possibly adore you like that, Gil. Else I would become far too jealous."

He held her close for a short time in silence and studied her face. "Sweetheart? Can I ask you something?"

Anne's only answer was to nuzzle into his neck, and he chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. I only wondered- since we haven't really discussed this yet- are you- nervous?"

Anne sat back on his lap in surprise. "About marrying you?"

"No, I figure you've gotten used to _that_ \- I suppose I meant _after_ \- you and I together." His eyes were a curious mixture of brightness and hesitancy, and he knew that she understood him when her own cheeks flushed brightly.

"No."

Gilbert looked at her, as if hesitant to believe her words. "Are you quite sure, Anne?"

She fixed him with a loving look, her hands coming up to cup his face. "I am. You know every little thing about me, Gil. You know me better than anyone ever did- you've seen almost every hurt, every terrible thing that I have experienced- and you _love_ me. If I can let you into every wounded part of my soul and know that you will deal gently with me, why would I ever fear your body knowing mine in the same way?"

Gilbert's breath was completely taken by her words, and he could only pull her close to kiss her with passion, loving the way she responded to him so eagerly. "Anne, how do you do that?" he said breathlessly. "How do you find the words to put it so beautifully?"

She chuckled, kissing the roughness of his jawline. "You inspire it, Gil. That's how."

He pulled her against him with a big sigh. "You need to start writing again, sweetheart."

Anne's smile was loving. "I already have. And you will see the proof of that when it is the right time."

* * *

Later that night, after Gilbert had gone home to hopefully sleep and Susan had retired for the night, Anne dressed for bed and wandered out into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for herself. Susan was learning to allow her to do these things for herself, and she looked down at her bare feet with some satisfaction. On impulse, she went to the back door, before slipping outside and into the garden that only months ago had been a hopelessly tangled mess. So she and Gilbert had been, she supposed. And yet, what impossible beauty had grown out of their heartache now?

Anne sat down on the garden seat on the moonless night, smiling up at the brilliance of the starlight on the hill. She breathed deeply of the perfume of the summer flowers, listening to the way the breeze moved through the pines. Through the open back door, a lamp glowed in the kitchen, and Anne smiled. There had been a night long ago when she had watched the stars twinkle from her room with a contentment like this- the same night she had held out her hand for Gilbert to take. Though time and heartbreak had seemingly altered her over the years, though distance and pain had taken from them both- she had kept the faith. Somehow, she had found Anne Shirley again, with the love and help of beloved people, both near and far. As the night wind made loose cherry blossoms dance in the darkness, the old lines of the poem rose to her lips, the echo of her younger self in the timeless words.

"God's in His heaven, all's right with the world," whispered Anne softly.*

* * *

*Anne of Green Gables


	39. Chapter 39

**May I just make one teeny alteration to my master plan, beloveds? I need to squeeze one more chapter in. Trust me- we need it.**

 **Four….**

* * *

 **Chapter 39**

On a bright morning just four days before the wedding, Anne arrived at the station to meet Fred, Diana and the children, accompanied by her future mother and father in law. She was flushed with the success of coming to meet the train on her own- Susan was tending to the wedding cake, and was insistent that the house needed peace and quiet for her to deliver it safely.

After she had spent several minutes chatting with Mr Saddler, she saw him turn to her with a smile, hearing the train in the distance. "She's coming now- be here in about four minutes, I reckon."

Anne turned to see a wisp of smoke in the distance and felt a sudden wave of emotion. How much had changed? She had a home to welcome Diana to now- a community, a family, not even twelve months after she had stepped off the train for the first time. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself, not wanting to terrify Diana by bursting into tears the moment she saw her- although perhaps it wasn't so strange. Anne's stick was in her hand, and she looked down at it with a quirked smile. Susan had ordered- and Gilbert had mildly _suggested_ that it would be a good idea to take it when she was out on her own. She chuckled, thinking about the self-restraint that Gilbert was employing to stop babying her- and he was mostly successful. Her chin lifted, and a smile was on her face. She didn't need to be coddled- but it was _love_ , she now saw, love that made those around her protective- and she was learning to accept it without having to prove her independence.

She rested on the stick now, her look thoughtful. Soon September would come, bringing with it the brilliant colours of the leaves again. She lifted her head to look at the bright green of the foliage around the station with a smile- the summer had been beautiful in the seaside town, with brisk winds, a glittering, sapphire sea and wildflowers in abundance.

Anne's mind turned to the future, her heart giving a leap of excitement. Soon, she would learn to know Ingleside in every season- she would make friends with the trees that surrounded their home, she would look out on snow-covered gardens. Spring flowers would come again, and summer storms would sweep across the gulf, unable to penetrate their dwelling. Together she and Gilbert would create the heart of their home- with firelight and friends, beloved anniversaries to celebrate, and a oneness of heart and body.

As a gentle wind rippled along the platform, Anne let out a breath that she hadn't even realised she was holding, watching the column of smoke move down the hill toward them. She turned at the sudden footsteps on the road behind her, smiling to see Gilbert bounding up the steps two at a time to her side. She reached for him gladly, as he pulled her into his arms for a hug.

"I was worried that I would miss them," he said, kissing her temple with a grin. "My last patient only just left."

"No- quite perfect timing, instead." Anne leant into him contentedly, and his hands came to rest on her waist.

Gilbert looked at her critically, well aware that he hadn't been able to see her as often as he would have liked that week. "Now, before we're hit with everyone, sweetheart, how are you?"

Anne turned to him in surprise. "Fine- why, Gil?"

He quirked his eyebrow, as the sound of the train grew closer. "Because weddings have a way of exhausting brides even before they even get to the ceremony. And with everyone around us fussing, I don't want you the same- run off your feet, and worried about things that don't matter."

Anne's hand came up to stroke his cheek, and she smiled cheekily. "I wouldn't worry, dearest. I can see plenty of rest coming for me. That is what that lovely big bed is for, isn't it? I'm sure we'll be able to catch up on all the sleep we've missed," she commented, giving him a wink that made him laugh. He kept a tight grip of his fiancée's waist, and bent to whisper in her ear.

"Not likely, Miss Shirley," he muttered mischievously, as the steam and noise of the train filled the station once more. Together they stood back, watching the porters run to open carriage doors, and summer visitors begin to flood onto the platform.

Within minutes the travellers had found Anne and Gilbert in the throng, and the first incoherent and ecstatic greetings had been exchanged. Gilbert found himself standing with his father some minutes later, holding a young Jack Wright who had been determined to escape his older brother's clutches. Fred had just corralled small Anne Cordelia from amongst the crowd, and Gilbert turned to see Anne's huge smile as they gathered around them. Diana was exclaiming over how well Anne looked, and his mother had a hand on his shoulder while clutching Anne to her joyfully. Gilbert chuckled, shifting the hefty young man on his hip. It wasn't unlike the chaos that had erupted when they had last gone home- and yet he looked across at Anne, seeing no tears or exhaustion this time, animatedly talking with Diana and his mother. He smiled, then. All was going to be extremely well.

An hour later, the two wagons were parked beneath the trees on the Ingleside lawn, while the Wrights and Blythes went all over the house exclaiming at the grounds, the view of the lighthouse from the garret, and the new rooms that had been built. Gilbert could hear Diana's raptures over the kitchen from where he stood in the living room. His parents were in the new bedroom, and Gilbert looked up from the sofa when his mother came to sit beside him, a sigh of relief escaping her.

"It's so lovely, dear," Sonia said with a proud smile. "And so much closer to town than your old house!"

Gilbert grinned. "Not that it was so very far. And we'll be there a few days yet."

"Four days is not so long," Sonia reminded him and turned to him with a worried look. "And why isn't there any bedroom furniture in there yet? You aren't leaving yourself much time-"

Gilbert held up his hands in protest. "Mother, it's all under control-"

"You say that with worrying confidence, dear."

Gilbert grinned. "For good reason. It's all in the barn. I didn't want Anne to see it until it was all set up- and that isn't happening until I can get to it tomorrow."

Mrs Blythe gave a sigh of relief, turning to him with a frown. "And what if she doesn't like it?"

"She will, mama, I promise you that."

* * *

The bed discussion had been a singularly diverting one- in amongst the many decisions they had had to make, Gilbert had asked for Anne's input on their bed. At first, she could only laugh, protesting that comparing their current beds was pointless- how could they compare what the other had never experienced before?

They had gone to the shore for this discussion. Sitting high on the rocks, they looked out of the water, talking of their home. Susan had been involved in many similar talks, however, Gilbert hadn't wished her to be present for this one.

"Is there no preference that you have?" he asked, looking for a way to discuss the problem logically. "Yours is a part of the cottage- so we either have to buy one, or we keep mine."

Anne turned to him, teasingly. " Gilbert, I'm sure Mrs Lynde would think this discussion terribly improper."

"Well, I'm not marrying Mrs Lynde," he said stubbornly. "Over a third of our lives will be spent in that bed- and I don't plan to sleep badly for the next sixty or seventy years. We've made every other decision together, I don't see why we can't make this one."

"And I am happy to make it with you, dearest- but I simply don't have enough information." Anne scrambled to her feet then, and held out her hand to him. Gilbert looked at her in bewilderment.

"I thought we were having a discussion."

She shrugged, her loose red curls blowing in the breeze. "We are. I'm just moving the discussion to your house."

Now seriously considering that his beloved had lost her mind, endeavoured to be rational. "Sweetheart-"

"You have a large bed- apparently- that may be suitable for the two of us," she said evenly. "And you want my opinion on what sort of bed we need. I think it only logical for me to see it, at least. Otherwise we could unnecessarily spend money on a new one when an old one might do."

He shook his head, grinning. "Anne, you've never been to my house before, most likely owing to the chaperone problem- which we still have for two more weeks, by the way," he said dryly. Her eyes twinkled at him in challenge, and he stood up and took her hand with a grin, turning to help her up the rocks.

A short time later, a flushed Gilbert stood in his kitchen, determined to remain an appropriate distance from his fiancée while she was evaluating his bed. He leant against the counter, wondering what she was doing in there for so long.

"Gil?", he then heard her call.

"Yes?"

"Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"

Gilbert raised a hand to ruffle his thick brown hair, unable to keep from chuckling. "Anne, I'm a tall fellow- and I've been sleeping alone for nearly thirty-two years. I sleep in the middle."

"Well, _that_ will need to change."

Her pragmatic statement made him laugh, and unable to resist, he came to stand in his doorway. His face heated when he saw her lying on his bed thoughtfully, as comfortably as if she were discussing the weather. He cleared his throat at the sight of her and grinned. "I'm quite resigned to the change, Anne-girl."

She looked up at the dark green of the canopy, a frown on her face. "I'm trying to picture this in our house."

"And can you?" he asked, loving the way her red curls looked against his pillow.

Anne turned to him in chagrin. "I can't, I'm sorry, Gil. It's too dark, and our room is so lovely and light, dearest."

Gilbert approached the bed with a boyish smile. "I know. I thought the darkness of the curtains was an advantage when I moved here- I assumed that would be necessary to sleep through the day. My bedroom in Montreal was too bright- when I saw this at an estate sale, I thought it would solve the problem."

"And you never thought to use thicker curtains on the window?"

He shrugged. "Nope- it never occurred to me. I draw the bed curtains here, and it becomes completely dark."

"I shouldn't like that, I think."

He smiled, seeing that she had chosen the pillow he usually used. Carefully, he sat down on the opposite side of the bed, kicking his feet up on it next to her. "It was never as comfortable as my bed at home, I'll grant you that."

Anne turned to him, puzzled. "What made you choose the lower floor, Gil? There must be other bedrooms above."

He chuckled, then. "A close call when I first moved in here. The phone went, I ran for it, and fell down the stairs."

He saw the sharp flinch she gave and kicked himself for his tactlessness. "Anne, I'm sorry- I should have thought that through," he muttered, taking her hand in his and holding it to his chest tightly.

She was slightly pale but shook her head. "No. I'm sorry- every now and then it catches me by surprise. It's fine." She drew in a deep breath and looked at him. "So you fell."

He grinned. "I did. My knee caught the bottom step- I was black and blue for a week. When they came to deliver the bed, I just told them to bring it in here." He looked around with a smile. "So, we need to buy a new bed. I'm not sorry- I spent a lot of time awake and lonely, in here. I'm heading to Lowbridge to consult with Parker tomorrow- I'll see what they have available."

Anne chuckled. "The mattress is quite comfortable, though, Gil- if it had filmy white curtains around it, I would be tempted to suggest that we keep it. Very romantic."

Gilbert looked over at her, grinning. "Oh?"

She began to laugh then. "Oh, yes. We were always writing about canopied beds with gossamer curtains in our Story Club tales."

Gilbert promptly began to choke with laughter. "Anne! You never told me that was what you girls were writing about, back then!"

She chuckled, loving the utterly stunned look on his face. "Well, we did. Of course, we wrote about maidens in their maidenly beds- mostly, anyhow." Gilbert came up on one elbow to watch her, his eyebrows raised so high that a blushing Anne laughed again. "Gilbert, remember that Ruby was the youngest of four sisters- some of whom were married with children by then. We didn't encourage those stories, I assure you- Jane got up and marched home after one of Ruby's, in which the hero dared to leap through the maiden's window to save her from a masked intruder. That was quite enough for _her_."

Gilbert sighed, clasping her hand in his tightly. "What I wouldn't have given to have known you better back then."

Anne leant over to kiss his cheek and rested her head against his shoulder. "Ruby did want you boys to join in, of course- it was me who was adamant that you shouldn't. She used to tease me about forever remaining single."

This made him start. "Anne, Ruby would never have been so mean."

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Gil- she only meant that I might _choose_ to stay single. After all, the other girls were used to close friendships with each other- and by the time I came along, they were beginning to cast their eyes toward the other sex."

"But you weren't ready for that."

Anne smiled. "No. I was fifteen or sixteen by the time I started wondering what a boy's friendship might be like."

Gilbert snorted, making her giggle. "Depends on the boy. Imagine you being best friends with Charlie?"

Anne began to laugh. "He and I didn't have enough in common for friendship. You and I though- well, look at us. It doesn't matter where we are, or what we are doing, we're just happy to do it together. We wouldn't have done this before, but doesn't this seem natural to you?"

He looked across at her next to him on the bed, and his glance was tender. "If you exchange my room for fields and brooks, then it's exactly what we used to do." He leant in and permitted himself one small, chaste kiss on her lips, and then got off the bed reluctantly. "And now we had better be going- I need to get you back to Susan, and stop being a terribly scandalous fiancé."

Anne sat up, an amused look on her face. "It was me who suggested this, remember."

Gilbert gave her a droll look. "I know. Now you'd better head out of here before I suggest something else."

* * *

The same afternoon they arrived in the Glen, Diana's children were tumbling around in the garden at Rosewood Cottage, and Anne smiled to hear the sound of laughter drifting up from the garden beds. Guinevere had been introduced, and the children had been given permission to run up and down the pathway to the old schoolhouse. From where they sat on the porch, Diana and Anne could keep an eye on the youngsters and sat sipping the tea Susan had insisted on preparing for their guests. Fred had been at loose ends until Mr Blythe swung by in the buggy, keen to return to Ingleside and complete some of the work that Gilbert had said needed doing. Diana laughed at the relieved look on her husband's face at so easy an escape, and told him to run along- Susan, already devoted to Gilbert's family and the friends who had cared for her girl waylaid the two men, handing over a bag of cookies and stern instructions to be back by suppertime.

Outside in the sunshine, Diana sighed. "It's so lovely, Anne. I didn't think it would be so beautiful, here."

Anne smiled. "It is. We plan to have the wedding under the trees in the garden- the cherry tree is lovely at this time of the year, and Susan and I have guarded the roses carefully," Anne said with a laugh. "She declared war on any blight or insect- I'm not sure that she doesn't come out to check on them at night." She shifted in her chair, resting her foot against the rail, and Diana gave her an intrigued look.

"How is it now?" she asked carefully.

Anne gave Diana a rueful smile. "A trifle sore, today- which Jeremy insists is a good thing. He's coming with the Winstons tomorrow- you will be able to meet him at dinner. You'll love him."

Diana turned to study her friend, her look gentle. "How was the hospital for you really, Anne?"

Anne looked at her in surprise. "Di, I wrote you about it weeks ago-"

"And I'm asking what it was really like," Di insisted. "I know you would have wanted to put a brave face on it for Gilbert's sake- and you probably did that for me as well- but I would like to know, if you don't mind telling me about it."

"For the most part, I didn't, Di," Anne admitted, before breaking into a soft laugh. "I was afraid, yes. But the pain was much less, this time- when I mentioned that to Gilbert, he reminded me that I didn't have a broken leg anymore. The staff were exceptional, and Gil was there as much as they would allow him to be- when he wasn't accompanying Jeremy and the other doctors to view different operations."

Diana gave Anne a bewildered look. "He did that?"

Anne smiled. "Quite a bit, actually. Jeremy tells me that Gilbert is a brilliant surgeon- I think he misses it at times."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't." Diana said flatly, making her friend giggle.

Anne was quiet then, and Diana stayed silent, hoping that she would continue. After a moment, she did. "You know, I never thought about what it would be like for Gilbert," she said slowly. "I was so caught up in what it would be like for me, that I never considered what it would mean for him to see me there. He kept telling me that everything was going to be fine- that I had nothing to worry about."

Diana smiled. "And he would know."

Anne gave a dry chuckle. "Yes, however, I know him better than _that_ , Di."

Diana turned to her, her black eyes twinkling. "Oh? What gave him away?"

Anne's look was fond as she turned at the shouts of the children. "Oh, while we were waiting, he asked me every few minutes if I was alright, if I needed anything- and kept drumming on the bedside table- he drove the nurses quite mad with it. I don't know if he had a fingernail left, after all the gnawing he did- and he wouldn't leave me to get something to eat."

Diana shook her head, a look of wonder on her face. "I can't picture him like that, Anne."

Anne's lips trembled then, and her voice was low. "I teased him about it, at first- until they came to take me to the operating theatre. Jeremy let him stay while they were getting the anaesthetic ready- but then he had to leave. I- I remember seeing Jeremy making him step away- and I saw his eyes."

Anne swallowed, still seeing the look of anguish on Gilbert's face and the way his jaw trembled. Another doctor was waiting at the door for him, someone who gave him a gentle push out of the heavy doors. As they closed, she thought she had seen a tear trace down his cheek- although, in her fuzzy state, she hadn't been sure if it was real.

Anne smiled wistfully, smoothing her long skirts over her knee. "You know, Di, when we became engaged, I imagined all of the drama was over for us- I never thought we would have to deal with so much before the wedding. It hardly seems like the ideal beginning for us."

Diana glanced at Anne thoughtfully.

"Did you know that I was afraid that Gilbert was going to hurt you again?" she asked, out of nowhere.

Anne looked at her friend in shock. "Diana, why would you worry about that? I was to blame-"

Diana grimaced at her. "That isn't the whole truth, Anne, and you know it. I know that it's all in the past. But I was worried that Gilbert wouldn't be able to move on from his anger- and that he would hurt you." She smiled sadly at the look of indignation on her friend's face. "Anne, I would defy anyone to watch what you have gone through and not be affected by it. Outside of Marilla, I would have said that I was the only person who ever knew the whole story." She felt Anne pulling away slightly, and took her hand lovingly. "Anne, darling, _think_. What would you have done if Fred had- oh, I don't know, left me at the altar?"

Anne looked at Diana in shock. "Diana-"

"Well, what would you have done?"

Anne closed her mouth, her grey eyes suddenly twinkling. "Alright, I would have found him and clubbed him to death with his own severed limbs."

Diana fell back on the chair laughing, and she gave Anne a twinkling look. "You see, darling? It's the role of a kindred spirit to be over-protective."

Anne chuckled. "Yes, but you forgot that Gilbert is a kindred spirit too."

"As is Fred. And yet you didn't always get to see that," Diana said gently. "I confess, I thought whatever there had been of that nature in Gilbert was long gone- and you know that I was terrified that he would make things harder for you. I was wrong- and I only knew half of the story. I confess that I made it rather difficult for Gilbert when he spoke to me about you- several times over, in fact." She smiled, then. "I'm lucky he's still speaking to me. I ranted and raved to Fred about him being careless of your feelings and so caught in the past that he couldn't move forward- but Fred was wiser. Anne, _nothing_ would get Gilbert Blythe to come back home. Not until he saw you again. He made himself to come to us just to find out how to fix things with you. Then at Christmas, he came home to see his family- again, something he hadn't done in years- and when I told him you were gone, he followed you to Green Gables, because he was so afraid for you."

Anne's eyes were glittering with unshed tears now. "Why are you telling me this now, Di?" she asked softly. "I know how badly Gilbert and I hurt each other-"

Diana took her hands in his. "Because the man who would put himself in the place he most feared, despite having nothing to gain is the man I know will take care of you. Gilbert Blythe has loved you since we were children- and he was willing to take me on when I told him to mind his own business nine months ago," she said with a chuckle. "He's not afraid to push you when you need it- and I'll never forget that he was the one to make you light up inside again." There were tears brimming in Diana's eyes, and she smiled at the red-headed girl beside her. "He brought you back home to us, Anne."

Anne reached out to take Diana's hand, squeezing it affectionately. "You all had a hand in that."

Diana smiled at her friend. "I know you and Gilbert have been through a heartache that no one should need to experience on the road to this moment- but anything you go through from now on will be together. It's a new day- it won't be that way again."

Anne lifted a shaking hand to wipe the tears from her face and smiled at her oldest friend. "Thank you, Di." She sat up then, seeing the children coming back toward the house. "I'm heart-glad to have you here, darling- I couldn't imagine having our wedding without you here."

Diana gave Anne a mock glare. "I'd have liked to have seen you try to do it without us."

Anne's look was twinkling as she rose from the chair, lifting her nose with pleasure to the afternoon breeze, pine-scented and laced with the smell of rain in the air. She kissed Diana's rosy cheek, before moving to the back door gracefully. "Then you should be _extra_ -glad that Gilbert and I decided not to elope in Montreal."

* * *

That night, the Blythes were the guests of the cottage for dinner. Anne and Susan had not wanted Sonia to have to cook on the same night she had arrived, and together the women made plans that evening to utilize both kitchens for the wedding feast over the next three days. Sonia was thrilled to be able to help and had come prepared with numerous Blythe and Fletcher family recipes to grace the table with at their son's wedding.

It was becoming late when Diana and Fred went to bed where their children had been blissfully snoozing for hours, and Anne stood at the door saying goodnight to Gilbert and his parents. Gilbert leant over to kiss her, straightening up with a smile.

"I am officially off duty, tomorrow," he said, grinning. "Justin has assured me that he will only call when necessary- and Bruce is on standby if he needs advice."

Anne smiled. "After the last few months, dearest, I think you and I owe Doctor Parker a good deal for his help."

"Oh, he will come collecting," he said, amused. "He wants to take his family to Kingsport in September- and he wants me to take on his mother in law, as my patient. That should even things up, apparently. Besides," he said nonchalantly, "I still need to get through until tomorrow morning."

Anne's hand came up to caress his chin. "So we need to hope that no one has a baby tonight."

Gilbert shrugged, his smile easy. "None of my patients are due for a few weeks- and besides, Doctor Shelby has impressed the town with his obstetric skills. It was his specialty at Redmond."

Forgetting that John and Sonia waiting on the step, Anne wound her arms around his neck with a dreamy look. "I can't believe we are so close to the wedding. You and I are almost there, beloved."

Gilbert chuckled and kissed her. "We are. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Packing my clothes to move into our home, dearest- and then we have the dinner at the Winstons tomorrow night."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "So Susan, Fred, Di and the children- and my parents- Jeremy and Penny, Andrew, Lizzy, and Mr and Mrs Winston. All under one roof."

Anne laughed, not seeing the way Gilbert's parents smiled to hear that sound. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

The next evening, as the fireflies danced in the shadowy garden to the children's delight, the Winston house was ablaze with colour, with people filling every room. Andrew had assured Diana that the every room had been extensively child-tested with regards to breakability, and that the children could run as much as they wanted. Lizzie was in her element as she bossed the Wright children around, and the four of them ran happily through the rooms that the adults had settled in. Susan and Mrs Meyer had together produced a dinner that the families delighted in, and after all had partaken Mrs Winston had shooed the women to sit down, while she and Penny cleaned up unhurriedly, and arranged the tea for everyone.

Andrew wandered through the rooms, a slight smile on his face. Gilbert's parents and his father were in the sitting room with Diana and Fred, and Penny was perched on the arm of her chair talking with Anne's friend, laughing at various stories the pretty black-haired woman told her about Anne and Gilbert. Jeremy and Gilbert had been in the study with him while Andrew looked something up for his father, and Susan could be seen in the kitchen wiping young Jack's hands and face, after an unfortunate collision with Lizzie's puppy. She had taken to the adorable youngster from the beginning of their stay, leaving his young mother with free hands for the first time in two years- something she said was a wonderful respite.

Later in the evening, when Gilbert came into the cozy sitting room, he frowned, suddenly unable to recall where Anne was. She had been in the room earlier for Jeremy to announce to the group his and a blushing Penny's engagement, and Gilbert had watched the besotted pair with a warm look in his hazel eyes. The wedding was set for December that year- and Gilbert and Anne were told unceremoniously that they would need to turn around and head for Montreal for the occasion. Gilbert raised his glass to them in salute, assuring them that they would be present, and hastily assuring his mother in the same breath that they would make it home for Christmas at Ingleside as well. As the talk continued around the room, Gilbert stepped away to walk through the rooms, looking for his bride to be. The children were playing happily by themselves in Lizzie's room, and he couldn't find her in the kitchen, the dining room or the study. With a slight smile on his face, he slipped out of the front doors, to the chairs he knew would be covered by darkness. He let the door fall closed behind him, and came to sit beside her. For long minutes, neither of them spoke.

Gilbert turned to look at her, his heart sinking when the faint light shimmered on a tear. He gathered her into his arms then, bending to press his cheek to the top of her head.

"I seem to be keeping company with the ghosts, tonight," she said, the slight breathlessness telling him that her tears had been falling for a while.

Gilbert held her close, his voice gentle. "Which ones?"

Anne raised a hand to brush away tears, her eyes closed in grief. "Gil, Marilla should have been here."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. He tucked her into his side, his hand smoothing the hair from her face tenderly. "You know she and Matthew would be so happy for us- well, Marilla would," he said with a little chuckle. "I suppose Matthew never really knew me."

Anne smiled, hunting for a dry spot on her handkerchief. Gilbert couldn't repress a loving look, seeing that it was one of his. His was still firmly in his pocket- and he realised that it must have been one he had given her months ago.

"Matthew knew you better than you would think, Gil- after all, for someone I refused to mention, it seems that I spoke about you an awful lot."

He gave her a wide grin. "You talked about me back then?"

She relaxed back in his arms, chuckling. "'Gil beat me in the test again, so I have to beat him tomorrow. Gilbert is joining the Queens class, and isn't that terribly annoying? Gilbert used his tie to swing off a branch, and Gilbert just had to walk home with Ruby Gillis from the last prayer meeting'. Matthew couldn't _help_ but know who you were."

The man in question snorted, kissing Anne's forehead. "Ah. So perhaps he would have chased me off his property, then."

Anne snuggled close to him, needing the comfort of his arms. "No- you remember how gentle he was, Gil. And he spoiled me as if I was his own," she said, with a little smile. "If I wanted you, then there was no way he would have kept you away." She looked out on the dim garden with a wistful look. "Marilla- Marilla always regretted that I said no to you in college."

Gilbert flinched at her words, relaxing slightly when her arms came around his waist. "Did you tell her?"

Anne shook her head. "No, you can thank local gossip for that, instead." Her hand rested on Gilbert's chest, and she felt the sigh that went through him. "I could never talk to Marilla about it- it hurt both of us too much." She smiled at the startled look on his face. "It was too familiar, you see, for her. She watched us become friends, and assumed that our future was secure together- that somehow, through us, the good would come out of the evil of their ancient bitterness."

"She and my father?"

He saw her nod, and sighed. "Well, my parents adore you, sweetheart. My mother is doing everything she can to not beg you to call them mother and dad- she as good as adopted you years ago."

Anne tipped her head up to look at him. "Even with the eight-year separation?"

Gilbert smiled. "Anne, if we could forgive each other for that, why shouldn't she?"

She looked up at him then, her grey eyes showing her vulnerability. "I- I don't know if I can. I've never called anyone mother before."

His eyes clouded with pain, and he cupped her cheek with his hand. "You don't have to, Anne- she just wants you to know how much she loves you." He cleared his throat, wanting to remove the hurt from her face. "Well, I _do_ know that your parents would have adored me." Anne chuckled at his confident tone and the twinkle in his hazel eyes. "The dashing young doctor, running around saving lives and sweeping their daughter off her feet-"

Anne smiled, getting into the spirit of the game. "After a few years of trying, of course. And unless my father was cross at you for talking me away from him."

Gilbert shrugged. "I plan on being that unreasonable about our daughters, I'm warning you now." After a minute of silence, he bent to kiss her forehead. "Can I ask why, sweetheart?"

She gave him an odd look. "Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"Yes, why?" he said softly. "Why is it hurting so much tonight?"

Anne smiled faintly. "Oh, I suppose because the families are here- and I wondered what it would have been like if Marilla was here too. She could have been talking in there with your parents, staying with me at the cottage." She turned her face to nestle in his side, and exhaled. "If she had lived, Gil, I think that this would have happened between us anyway. I was still going to find work- and the Glen were still the only school hiring. I- I could have had you both."

Gilbert rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. "I know, love. You know she would never have wanted to leave you."

Anne sighed. "Yes. I suppose- earlier, I just saw the pride on Mrs Winston's face when Jeremy told us they were engaged, and it overwhelmed me. Marilla never got to know."

Gilbert surprised her then with a small chuckle. "Don't you think she would have taken my head off, like Diana wanted to?"

Anne looked up in shock. "Gil? You knew about that?"

He rolled his eyes, one hand brushing loose, red strands from her face. "Di never did hide her feelings well, Anne-girl," he commented. "Maybe Marilla would have been just as upset with me."

Anne smiled, drawing comfort from his touch. "She would have forgiven you the moment she knew that you cared. Just like your mother did me."

Gilbert looked into her eyes in the dim light. "She loved you. She would have been so happy, sweetheart. We have to hold onto that." He pressed a kiss to her upturned face and smiled at her in wonder. "Anne, you're almost Mrs Blythe."

Anne laughed, pulling her arms around his neck tenderly. "And you are almost my husband. Is there anything you wanted to do in your last two days as a single man, Gil?"

Gilbert's eyes twinkled. "Yes. I should have liked to have come in through your bedroom window at least once- although I rather think that will be frowned on by our esteemed chaperones, even two days out from the wedding."

Anne smiled blissfully, as his lips descended to hers. "Never mind, dearest. Good things come to those who wait."

* * *

Inside, more than one person had discovered that the guests of honour were missing. Andrew Winston turned from his conversation with his future brother-in-law to see Diana Wright looking around, puzzled. He bent toward the dark-haired woman with a smile. "You noticed that they were gone, too? Are these two usually such a flight risk in company?"

Diana sat back on the sofa with a smile, holding a sleeping Jack in her arms. Her eyes twinkled at Gilbert's friend then. "They certainly were, when we had finished school. They were always in their own world, I think- you don't know how wonderful it is to see them like this, again."

Andrew smiled. "So I hear. I don't need to be running around trying to find them in the dark, then?"

Diana laughed. "Andrew, together, the two of them can walk further, run faster and climb higher than just about anyone I know. Even after all of these years. The one thing I am sure of is that wherever they are, they will certainly be together."


	40. Chapter 40

**Well, I'll say this- you have this chapter courtesy of a rather vile flu type bug. I was meant to be working all wekend, but had to stay at home in bed writing instead! Oh, the horror! Seriously, I'm very grateful. Thank you to everyone who had read, favourited and of course reviewed- I'd like to say I'm cool as a cucumber about it- but the truth is I still get wildly excited at every blip on my emails. This is the bonus chapter- I couldn't skip straight to the wedding, so here is the day before. I've loved this journey- and I'm so grateful for all of you who have come on it with me. Thank you.**

 **All my love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Three…..**

 **Chapter 40**

On the day before the wedding, Anne made a pilgrimage on her own to the shore. She sat high on the sand dunes, looking out over the bright waters in the morning sunshine. She drew in a deep breath, loving the feel of the salt breeze against her skin. Diana had offered to go with her, however, Anne had been surrounded by people for days now, and wanted time and space to think. She smiled, watching the gulls swooping low over the water, their harsh cries sounding in the distance. It was wild and free- everything her soul craved at that moment.

All lay in readiness for the morrow- Susan and Miss Cornelia had cellars and pantries overflowing with a feast fit for the king, and Diana had insisted that Anne's wedding dress and other clothing be left solely in her capable hands. Phil and Jo were arriving on the afternoon train, according to Phil's letter. Anne smiled. Susan had anxiously suggested to Sonia that the two households have a quiet evening, who had immediately agreed. Phil and Jo would visit with them that afternoon, and then they would return to Gilbert's house, where Sonia was industriously preparing to host the young minister and his wife. Their room was only small, something Phil had instantly been dismissive about in her letter- _"Darling, just to be present at your wedding is a blessing- and you remember the broom cupboard I slept in at Patty's place- anything has to be larger than that was. Jo and I can snuggle up anywhere."_

Anne chuckled. She would not have much opportunity see her beloved friend- although she knew that Phil planned to be over at the cottage as early in the morning as she could possibly be to help her get ready. As it was, Sonia was at the helm of Gilbert's house, while Susan and Diana had assured her that all was under control in their own. So thoroughly was everything taken care of, that Anne found herself superfluous for the day- even Gilbert would be busy. Sitting on the beach, she shivered slightly in the warm wind, thinking of the big house that lay ready for the following day. Gilbert had been adamant that she not visit the house, despite Anne's quiet but pink-cheeked protest that she had planned to help prepare their home. At this, his lips had silenced her, and she was sternly told to trust him, and not set foot in the place until after the wedding. The twinkle in his hazel eyes was evident, and with good grace, Anne acquiesced.

She had needed the time away from everything if she was honest. Her life had been a whirlwind of activity since the day she had told Gilbert she loved him- since the day he had proposed, now almost three months ago. Anne lifted the skirts away from her foot, rolling her stocking down to examine her leg. She smiled, looking at the neat pink line that ran down her leg- several times Jeremy had called on her to admire his skills, and with amusement, she had done her best to meet his level of enthusiasm. Diana had taken her to Gilbert's office to meet with Jeremy the previous day- and as Jeremy boasted about the improvement in her gait, Diana had turned laughing eyes to Gilbert, who sat back at his desk with a contented look.

Anne gave a little sigh. Would she choose to keep her scars, if she could?

She turned her face into the wind, letting the it soothe her before looking out to the horizon again. Suddenly, a conversation with Marilla's from long ago came to her mind. Only weeks after Matthew's death, she had been shooed away from the washing one afternoon by Marilla. Anne instead sat down on the kitchen step to keep her company, wistfully looking out into the August sunshine.

 _"Would you change it all?" she'd asked her guardian suddenly._

 _Marilla looked up sharply. "Change what, Anne?"_

 _Anne gestured around her helplessly and sighed. "All of it. If you could go back. Not adopting someone sooner- an older boy could have been running the farm for you by now. Staying in Avonlea with your parents. Not continuing your schooling when you wanted to, Marilla. Even you and- and Mr Blythe." The last had been almost whispered, and Marilla looked at her piercingly._

 _"I dare say I would_ , _if it came to that. But it doesn't follow that it wasn't right. God alone knows what's best."_

 _She wasn't surprised to see the look of bewilderment cross the girl's face, and sighed. Still little more than a child, with enough hurt behind her sixteen years to understand only too well that one's path could be affected by things outside of her control._

 _"Marilla, how could it be God's plan for us to lose Matthew?" she had whispered. "What does it serve Him to have us hurting?"_

 _Marilla's look was stern, and she set down the basket firmly. "That's when we need to trust, Anne. We can't know why- or what would have happened, we can only know what did happen. We do the best we can with what we are given- and for the rest, we need to have faith."_

Anne drew in a deep breath in the present, looking at the big clouds building in the distance to the east. Of course Marilla had been right. And yet, Anne was only too aware that she would change it- she would change everything if she could. It wasn't in man's power to not want to escape pain.

She would have asked someone to help her with the boxes that day in Summerside- she would have gone home when Marilla asked her to. She would have spoken to Gilbert sooner, gone into his arms at the Redmond dance, the pink enamel heart proudly against her throat for him to see. She would not have been sidetracked by Roy- and she would have changed everything in the orchard. She would have asked Gilbert for more time to know her own heart.

Here, Anne smiled, her look wistful as she scanned the frothing waters breaking onto the sand. She knew Gilbert Blythe. He would have done as she requested, a little light of hope beginning to shine in his hazel eyes, and perhaps the fear of losing her would have subsided over time, the fear that had made him act unwisely. A little chuckle broke from her lips, then. He would have laid his campaign for her heart walking home from Patty's Place that same day- and she well knew the Blythe determination to succeed. They would have walked together through life, hand in hand, with no memories that didn't belong to each other.

Still, as Anne Shirley sat on the beach on the day before her wedding to the man she had long loved, she drew in a long breath, looking out to the horizon with clear grey eyes. Their pasts had led them together again- they had been given another chance. Anne smiled. Together they would make up for every past hurt, every misunderstanding, every year they had lost. She looked down at her leg with a sigh and smiled. It wouldn't matter any longer.

A shadow fell across Anne, then, and she cried out in shock to see Gilbert's tall form standing above her.

"Gilbert Blythe don't _do_ that! Do you _want_ me to live to be your bride?" she said indignantly.

He hunkered down beside her, his look amused. "I've been calling out for some distance- I haven't seen you so lost in your thoughts for ages, sweetheart."

She chuckled then, as his arm came around her waist. "I think I just needed to get away for a time- I needed some space to think."

"As long as you aren't thinking about changing your mind about the wedding-" Gilbert said dryly, making her laugh.

"Only wishing we had done it sooner, Gil." She turned to him, puzzled. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be busy most of the day?"

He bent to kiss the top of her head, before leaning back contentedly on his palms, watching the movement of the distant waves. "I am. But I badgered mother until she came up with an errand for me to run to the cottage- and Di told me you were here. I wanted to see you."

She smiled. "You'll see me for tea this afternoon, Gil."

He pounced then, making her laugh as he pulled her down to lay on the sand with him. "I can't do _this_ , then," he murmured, kissing her pink lips.

She put her arms around his neck with a sigh. "That is true."

Gilbert's hand stroked up and down her waist lovingly, and he studied her face. "Are you alright?"

She gave him a considering look, her hand stroking his chin. "Yes- perhaps just a little overwhelmed. Everyone is running around busily, but not wanting me to help at all- it makes me feel terribly rootless."

Gilbert sighed, leaning down to rest on her shoulder, smiling as her hands caressed his brown head. "It's nearly over, now."

Anne grimaced. "And I don't want to view it like that, either- it's our wedding day. Shouldn't we enjoy it?"

Gilbert lay back on the sand then with a sigh then, taking her hand in his. "Of course we should- but to me, the real marriage is something that happens between us- something that doesn't involve flower arrangements, or dresses or enough food to sink a fleet of ships."

Anne chuckled. "I quite agree with you, dearest- you know that I would love nothing better than to marry you deep in the woods, far from civilization- but since we need to do this, shouldn't we appreciate it while it is happening?"

Gilbert's eyes were closed, and he smiled. "There's my idealist," he commented, amused. "You're right, though. And for everyone else's sake, I will attempt to compliment the napkins, and eat the cake, and talk to our friends and family as if I wasn't impatient to leave with you."

"As will I."

He looked across at her then, his eyes yearning, and when she turned to him, she smiled. She brought herself up on one elbow, her hand smoothing over the fabric of his casual shirt. "What have you yet to do, today?"

Gilbert smiled, tugging her so that she lay against him in the sand. "I have to prepare our house for us."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Oh. Was there a reason you didn't want me there to help?"

"Yes. A good one." His hand tangled in her red hair then, pulling down to kiss her deeply. "I don't want you to see it until tomorrow. And to be quite honest, I'm not sure I would control myself well at all, with you there."

Anne laughed then, her grey-green eyes twinkling. "And I suppose you think this is controlling yourself?" she teased, from her place on his chest. He grinned at her.

"Reasonably, yes." He sighed, stroking her soft cheek. "I want it to be a surprise for you, sweetheart."

Anne was silent for a moment and then turned to him with an innocent look. "Have you given any thought to the fact that I need to get changed, tomorrow night?"

Gilbert's eyes twinkled. "Of course I have. The other bedroom will be made available to you for that purpose."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Tell me, darling- why is it that bride must dress in ' _suitable night attire_ '- Mrs Lynde's words from her latest letter, with what I imagine are largely unnecessary instructions-" she smiled, seeing the way his eyebrows rose into his hairline. "-while the groom is considered simply ready as he is?"

He chuckled, and Anne smiled to see the light flush on his cheeks. "Well, you're prettier than we are. No one wants to see a man in a lace nightgown."

She pouted then. "Why not? I've seen you in a lace bonnet-" she broke off then, as Gilbert's eyes narrowed, and he rolled a laughing Anne onto her back.

"That's enough, _Almost-Mrs-Blythe_. When are you going to let me live that down?"

She batted her eyelashes at Gilbert then, her arms wrapped around him tightly. "When we are old and grey, dearest. I'll make sure the children don't hear about though. We wouldn't want them thinking it was a habit you had developed."

For the cheek of this comment, his fingers dug into her slender waist, and she squirmed, laughing as he tickled her. After a moment he relaxed, and the two of them were silent for a time.

"Is anything troubling you, Anne-girl?"

She brushed some sand off her neck and turned to him in surprise. "Why, Gil? You are asking that a lot, lately."

He sighed, his hand clasping hers as the long grass blew above them across the dunes. "I'm just checking, I suppose. You're very introspective, of late. I wondered if there was something that was bothering you- about tomorrow, about me-"

Anne shook her head, her look regretful. "No, Gil. We just have some very big changes ahead of us. I suppose I'm asking myself a lot of questions about them, that's all. "

"Like what?"

"Like what will happen to us," she said, her voice quiet. "When will we have our first child? Will it be an easy pregnancy, or will it worry the life out of you the whole time? What if we don't get pregnant at all?" He looked at her in consternation, however, she continued, her eyes troubled. "Will Diana and I grow apart when her house is no longer my refuge from the world? Will I ever be ready to see Green Gables in someone else's care? What will happen to the school? Will I miss teaching? What if I can't make you happy? What if I disappoint you-"

She stopped again, as his lips pressed to hers. "That's enough of that," he whispered, holding her dear face close to his own. "I'm already happy- _because_ of you. And we are going to make each other angry at times, we are going to misunderstand each other and hurt sometimes- and we're going to get past it because we love each other. As to the rest- well, we can't know that, can we? Can you just trust that we will be together, no matter what happens?"

Anne's face looked troubled. "It's foolish to worry- I know that. But we have waited so long to be together- at times I'm frightened that it could all be taken away again."

Gilbert's face was tender as he looked down at her. "I know what you mean- but I'm not going anywhere, Anne. And as of tomorrow, I won't ever need to leave you again. I'll come home to you- not just say goodnight on a cold doorstep."

Anne laughed, hiding her face in his shoulder. "It's just as well. Courting in winter would be quite miserable, I think." She was quiet then and sighed. "I've- I've also wondered how the anniversaries that have hurt us will affect us now."

Gilbert pulled away thoughtfully, helping her to sit up beside him. "I would assume we won't know until we get there, sweetheart." He watched her closely, unconsciously reaching up a hand to rub her leg, and thought that he understood.

"What was it like?" he asked softly. "Last year, I mean."

Anne gave him a faint smile and looked back out toward the sea. "Hard. I didn't know Susan enough to tell her it was the date of the accident- perhaps I should say that I wasn't willing to, really. I didn't let myself. The doctors had told me that a year would show if I was going to get better- after that, there was little chance of improvement. You know what condition I was in back in November- I was still very unsteady. I assumed that the doctors must have been right. There was no more healing to come."

Gilbert scowled. "To a degree, they were right- but did they never mention trying another operation?"

Anne cleared her throat, a droll look on her face. "Oh- Doctor Barnett was most likely unwilling to enter into that discussion again with me, Gil. I did not react too well to the suggestion."

He rolled his eyes. "I can only imagine, Anne." He nudged her then with his shoulder, his look warm. "You needed to keep that fight in you, Anne-girl. I was terrified when I thought you'd lost that."

Anne nodded, brushing her red hair from her eyes. "I didn't. I just had to save it for what really mattered."

Gilbert studied her thoughtful face. "Thank you," he said softly. Anne looked up at him in some confusion, and he smiled. "Thank you for not hiding from me back then." He turned to take her hands in his own, and sighed. "You could rightfully have refused to see me- you could have refused to talk to me at all about anything from the past. I expected it, to be honest."

Anne pulled a hand from his to stroke his cheek, a little smile on her face. "I loved you. It was really that simple."

He smiled, bending forward to touch his forehead to hers. "I love you too. Now, Susan has asked me to fetch you home, sweetheart- so we need to part ways, for now. Come on, I'll see you home."

* * *

When the afternoon came, an exuberant Phil rushed up the path of Rosewood cottage with a glad cry, pulling the waiting Anne into a warm hug. "Honey, it's so good to see you! And _look_ at you!"

Anne laughed, pulling back to see her friend better in amazement. "Look at _me_ , Phil, look at _you_!" she said, as a grinning Phil touched her small, but evident rounded belly. "Phil! You never said a word to me about this!" she scolded, her eyes filled with mirth.

Phil waltzed into the house airily as Gilbert walked up the path with her husband. "Forgive me, honey, but I haven't been able to surprise anyone else- this little one is determined to make herself known. I was showing within two months," she said dryly.

Anne stopped, her mouth quirked. "She?"

Phil's crooked smile was evident, as she rubbed her bump. "I'm quite certain it's a she, Anne. I lost a terrible amount of weight with both of the boys, and with this one, I seem to be eating for a football team. Something is certainly different."

Anne laughed, leading to way to the comfortable veranda, where Susan and Diana had laid out the tea. "I don't know if Gilbert would say that as a clinical certainty, however, I hope you are right- you deserve your own little Phillipa."

The look of dismay was evident on her friend's face. "Good heavens, I do hope not- I was a terrible trial for my parents- as my mother takes great delight in pointing out whenever she is looking after the boys."

"And are they-"

"Good as gold, I promise you, honey, they take after their father entirely. Otherwise, I shouldn't have been able to convince Mama to take them while we came to the island for your wedding."

The introductions were made to Diana and Fred, and as Susan served the tea, insisting that she needed to get back to her oven, the six adults began to visit together in the afternoon sunshine. Phil and Diana had long heard of each other and took great delight in swapping stories of Anne and Gilbert while they sat. Jonas conversed easily with Fred and Gilbert, and for a short time, Anne watched the others in silence, her grey eyes shining with happiness. After not hearing her voice for a time, Gilbert leant closer, squeezing the hand that was in his own. He smiled, seeing the delight on her face.

"What is it?"

Anne turned her face to look at him, her eyes soft. "This. Did you ever think we would be here?"

"I certainly hoped that we would," he murmured, unaware that he had drawn the attention of the others.

"So _this_ is what I missed."

Gilbert and Anne looked up in some shock, to see the others grinning at them, and a triumphant Phil sat with her arms crossed. "I always wondered what the two of you would be like together- are they always so distracted in company?" This, she addressed to Diana.

"Oh, often," Diana said brightly. "Sometimes I suspect that they wouldn't come back from it if they had a choice."

Phil clucked, shaking her head with a slight frown. "I should have sent that letter, you know. I was going to write to you, Gilbert, and to tell you that there was nothing with Roy- that you should try again after college."

This was a fresh shock for Gilbert, and he looked at her in bewilderment- however only Anne could feel the tension in his body. "What- why didn't you?" he asked, attempting to smile. To his surprise, her merry face was sober as she regarded the pair.

"Sometimes interfering can cause a bigger mess. I didn't want to ruin any chance the two of you could have had to work it out on your own."

Anne smoothed her hand over Gilbert's corded arm, smiling at Phil. "It was probably wise. Who knows what kind of mix-ups could have occurred."

Phil sighed, looking at the pair fondly. "And it doesn't matter now, does it? I always did think you the best man for her, Gilbert. You were the only one who made her laugh."

The talk soon turned to Anne's trousseau, and an excited Diana took Phil's arm in her own, to lead her to the garret, where Anne's dresses were laid out carefully. Anne waved them off with a smile, after hearing an ecstatic gasp from Phil to Diana- " _The_ Madame Sylvian of Montreal?"

Anne chuckled, and she watched Fred move from the steps at Guinevere's whinny, with Jo following him down to the barn and the small field that was her home. She could then turn to her fiance, who had stood up and was pacing the veranda, his eyes stormy. She stood up, and moved to his side, her voice gentle. "Gil-"

He raised a hand to cut her off, shaking his brown head. "I know, I know, we shouldn't dwell on the past," he muttered, and Anne chuckled wryly.

"Something we are both struggling with right now, I would say. Why is it that we can have common sense for each other, but not ourselves?"

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled faintly. "We're two halves of a whole, I suppose. And we've been halved for a long time now."

Anne grimaced slightly as her foot twinged, and she leant against the stone wall of the house for support. She tugged on his hands until he was before her, and looked up into his hazel eyes seriously. "You keep telling me that everything is going to be alright, Gil, that no matter what happens, you won't leave."

"I'd sooner cut my own leg off."

Anne pulled away with a twinkle in her eyes, her nose turning up in disgust. "Must you go down that route to reassure me?"

He chuckled, his hands resting on her waist. "Sorry."

She looked up at him then, her eyes clear. "We both have our scars, Gilbert. We are sensible to remember that. But if you won't leave me, and I won't leave you, then our future seems to be fairly secure, doesn't it? Regardless of what could have- or didn't happen."

Gilbert sighed, his words blunt. "Maybe we're both wrong," he said quietly. "I keep telling you that the past doesn't matter- and you tell me the same- and maybe we shouldn't, anymore. We grieved for all of those years- maybe we need to acknowledge them to be able to move on."

Anne's eyes were on his fearlessly, and she drew in a deep breath. "You're right. But the past doesn't change the fact that we have a future now- and in less than a day, I will be your wife."

His eyes darkened, and he pressed himself against her, his hand resting on the stone wall behind her, the other on the back of her slim neck. She kissed him hungrily, her hands holding his face close to her own. For a minute they were lost in each other's touch, and when Gilbert pulled away, his voice was husky. "And in a little over a day, Anne, I will make you my own."

Her cheeks were flushed, and she chuckled. "What did we say about that? We are already each other's, we are just-"

" _Unclaimed_." His satisfied grin was on his handsome face, and he bent down to kiss her once more sweetly, sighing as her arms slipped around his neck.

The two of them were suddenly brought back to reality by the door swinging open beside them, and Phil's look was naughty as she turned to a smiling Diana. "And is this something you are used to yet, Di?"

Diana's black eyes twinkled at her new friend. "I don't suppose I'll ever get used to coming across _this_ , Phil."

Anne pushed away from the wall with a scowl on her face, and Gilbert's laughed as she tucked his hand tightly into her own. "Well, you'll have to get used to it, Mrs Wright. We're not going anywhere."

The moment they had had alone was fleeting- from that point in the day, buggies were arriving and leaving the cottage, and the pair were required to greet visitors, take platters of food from people assisting Susan and Miss Cornelia with the catering, and the menfolk got to work in the backyard assembling a makeshift bower that would be wrapped with ivy the following morning. The Wright children were dropped back home by a cheerful Jeremy, who had come on behalf of his future in-laws, who had offered to occupy the three children for the morning. Mrs Winston had assured Diana that her own four grandchildren were often in their home, and that she and Penny would be delighted to give Diana and the cottage household the chance to prepare for the following day.

Anne and Gilbert spent an hour in the little office with the Reverend Jo, who talked to them easily about what they wanted in the service the next day. After he had finished, he asked the pair if they had any questions- and after a shared look, Gilbert spoke quietly about what they had been discussing that day. Jo nodded thoughtfully, watching the pair before him.

"There is a wonderful verse in the Psalms that I often think about- ' _Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning_.'" He smiled at the pair gently. "It didn't tell us that weeping was to be done away with quickly- there is a place and a season for doing so. But when morning comes, the _mourning_ will end. The two of you are on the eve of such a morning, I believe." The smile he gave transfigured his plain face, and he watched them with great love. "Anne, Gilbert, I believe that when tomorrow comes, you won't even need to try."

* * *

When the evening grew late, Sonia Blythe chivvied the young people to bed, asserting that everyone needed a good night's sleep. Phil had been yawning for some time, and a droll Mrs Blythe insisted that she head there first, accompanied by a peppermint tea. Jo, Jeremy and Gilbert were then handed hot cocoa and a cookie each, and told sternly to head for their beds themselves.

"Mama, we're not children on the night before Christmas-" Gilbert protested, however before his mother could launch into the full " _You will need your strength tomorrow, young man-_ " discussion, John turned his son towards his bedroom door with a well-hidden grin.

"Mind your ma, Gil. I dare say the extra sleep won't kill you." When all three of the gentlemen had disappeared, he turned to his wife, who was icing cookies in the dim kitchen.

"You did that on purpose," her husband pointed out, amused. "You just wanted the house to be quiet to get more done."

Sonia rolled her eyes. "And they all need sleep- Gilbert especially. It's not every day you get married, now, is it?"

John leaned down to kiss the top of his wife's head with a chuckle. "Alright. I'm heading up, now. Don't stay up too late now."

Inside his room, Gilbert moved slowly to the nightstand, where he placed his drink down. He lit the lamp and sat on the edge of the wide-canopied bed, looking around the nearly empty room thoughtfully. He'd taken most of his clothes to the house that day- all lay in readiness for the following night. His suit hung on the door of the wardrobe, carefully and lovingly pressed by his mother. He smiled at the tie that hung there, one Anne had found for him in Montreal. Slowly, he changed for bed, and pushed back the drapes to allow the moonlight to come in the room. He lay back on the bed with a sigh, watching the movements of the curtains in the breeze. As he adjusted his pillow, he froze, hearing paper rustling underneath. Carefully he sat up and drew out an envelope addressed in Anne's hand. For a moment he simply sat, his heart thumping, until he slit the envelope with his finger and drew out a sheaf of papers from within. He smiled, seeing her familiar writing covering the whole page as she used to do of old, and fell to studying it carefully.

* * *

Late that night, Anne was tucked into bed by first Diana, and then Susan, who wasn't at all confident that Diana had done it properly. As the clocks chimed eleven in the sitting room, Anne lay in the dimness, idly twisting her hair around her fingers. She sighed, knowing at once that it was useless to attempt to sleep yet- she was simply awake. She was contemplating tiptoeing out to get a book from the office when she heard a rough voice whisper her name. Anne shot up in bed, muffling a cry in the sleeves of her nightgown when she heard Gilbert's faint chuckle, and she crept over to her window, furious. "Gilbert, this is the _second_ time today, you idiot! Are you _trying_ to kill me?" She opened sash of the window higher, her hand on her chest breathing heavily. "What on earth were you _thinking_?"

Gilbert looked sheepish. "Oh- er, well, I wasn't asleep."

Anne scowled at him, moving to kneel before the window to see him better. "Is there a reason you are skulking around here so late at night, less than twelve hours before our wedding? If this is you backing out-"

Her voice was cut off suddenly, as Gilbert hoisted himself into the frame, pressing his lips to her own. He pulled back then, his eyes twinkling as he steadied himself. "You know I'm not, Anne-girl. And _you_ started it. Whom did you use to put that under my pillow?"

She relaxed then, her cheeks heating. "So you found it."

"Yes. Who was the messenger?"

Anne smiled. "Your mother. She found the idea charming- and she said that your father wrote to her the night before their wedding as well. Gil, if Susan finds you in here-"

Gilbert bent in to kiss her again, before briefly disappearing to move a box under her window. When he reappeared, he grinned smugly. "And what would she do? Insist that I marry you tomorrow? Done. And we're grown-ups now, Anne. We've got some self-control."

Anne's hand came up to caress his cheek, and she gave him a mischievous look. "Then would you care to explain what you are doing here?"

"I needed to see you, that's all," he said softly. "I read them both- Anne, you're amazing."

She flushed, ducking her head. "They aren't anything special, you don't-"

Gilbert cut her off with a hard kiss that pressed his ribs against the windowsill. "No, don't do that, Anne. Stop hiding. I didn't tell you to write again because you needed a hobby- I told you to write because it is who you are- and because I knew you could do it. They're brilliant." He rested on the sill carefully, almost stumbling over his words. "All along I've felt that there are things that I can't know about you, sweetheart. There was a barrier between us, because I wasn't there for you. I couldn't understand your pain, and it hurt me- I didn't understand how hard you needed to fight to stay alive," he muttered, his hands reaching for her slender body. "But I read it- and I see it now." Anne's big grey eyes were on his in bewilderment, seeing the tear that traced down his lean cheek. "You _made_ me see. That's a gift, Anne. It's not something that should be hidden, or lost, or run from."

Anne raised her eyes to his, a teasing smile that hid her insecurity on her face. "You aren't just flattering me because I will be your wife tomorrow, Gilbert?"

His look was incredulous, and he straightened up. "When did I ever flatter you? I always told you the truth. Half our fights happened because of that."

Anne began to protest and then stopped foolishly. "Oh."

"Yes, _Oh_." He took her hands in his, wincing at the edge of the wooden ledge. "I know you wanted me to have them for tonight- I know it should have been a sweet moment we shared alone, but I couldn't. I had to tell you what it meant to me tonight."

Anne's eyebrows rose in confusion. "But I didn't hear Hippocrates- I always hear the horses on the road at night."

He grinned. "And wake everyone up by saddling him? I don't think so. I have five other people in my household, and I think all of them would frown on this."

"But I thought we were grown-ups and didn't need to worry about other's opinions," she said cheekily, and he chuckled.

"My mother would not see it like that, and you know it. So I jumped out my window and ran here- hopefully it will tire me out, too." He raised Anne's fingertips to his lips, and held her hand tightly. "The- the last one- Anne-"

Anne's cheeks flushed. "The Shore of Dreams."

He nodded, unable to keep from moving into the window to kiss her again. "It was- beautiful." In the faint moonlight, he could see the heavy flush on her face, and he pulled her closer, his voice ragged. "It's _us_ , Anne. It's _here_. It's the most sensual, personal- Anne, I worry- I worry that you may tire of this life one day, it's so far from the great dreams we had as children- I worry that you deserve more than just this shore-"

Anne slipped her arms around his neck, silencing his faltering words with her lips, her chest pressed against his tightly. When he was quiet, she held his face close, her eyes closed.

"Our greatest dream was _home_ , Gil. It was, even then. Of belonging and purpose and safety and hope and _passion_ \- this is _it_. You made me dream again- I'd forgotten how." She opened pleading eyes to his, her voice desperate. "This is all I want- a life with you. I wanted to show you- I wrote it to tell you that. Perhaps I didn't-"

Gilbert shook his head in her hands, a faint smile on his face. "No, honey, you did- I suppose it just nudged the biggest thing I'm afraid of. Of you having less than you deserve."

"All I want is you, Gilbert," she said softly.

"And all I want is you." He pressed one last kiss to her lips, and moved back into the frame with a wry smile. "And now I'd better be a responsible future husband, and let you get some sleep. I'm sorry, Anne, it was a crazed impulse- and I'd better hope that my mother never discovers that I'm gone. I didn't even make it look like I was in bed- or close the window."

Anne came to her knees with a little laugh, and through the window, Gilbert helped her to her feet again. Her eyes were brilliant in the faint light. "I'm glad you came," she said softly. "It's the most romantic thing I've ever experienced."

Gilbert grinned smugly. " _Yet_. Eleven tomorrow?"

Anne nodded and bent down to kiss his beloved head with a smile, and moved to climb into her bed. He watched her for a moment, and with a smile, silently slipped from the window, and Anne could hear his footsteps as they moved along the path into the night.

She then gave a deep sigh, suddenly feeling tired from the long day. She smiled in the dim room, her heart beginning to steady as she drifted off to sleep some minutes later.

Only one more day.


	41. Chapter 41

**We're HERE! My apologies for the delay in posting. To my surprise, I was upgraded to 'influenza' (the real deal, apparently) after I finished the last chapter, and was on quarantine and bed rest on my lounge for eleven days. I've actually never been so sick before, and have firm plans to never do so again. Admittedly, I had some delirious idea that with time away from work and people I would have finished the whole story by now- that didn't factor in the fact that I would actually be too sick to do so. I couldn't read, couldn't sit up, let alone hold my laptop. So I am slowly catching up now (which includes reviews for my fellow writers, you have all been writing so brilliantly, and I promise they are coming) and I really needed to take my time with this most important (and terrifying) chapter. Lastly, I must credit Hecalledmecarrots with listening to my not-at-all rational ranting about it, since one point I decided that this chapter would simply read- "Then they got married and slept together. The end." It's the mark of a friend that she didn't laugh at me, and coaxed me to not be a chicken and just write the damned thing.**

 **Now, just one quick word before we go over the top- I think you all know that I was never going to be writing an M rated finish to this story- it's not in keeping with the rest of the story, I suppose. However I _did_ up the rating just a leetle bit, and I hope you enjoy the slightly unusual-for-me T-ish finale; to do less just didn't seem right for this pair.**

 **To all of you who have read, reviewed and favourited throughout this whole story, it means so very much to me. Thank you all so much. Shore would not be what it is without you.**

 **Love, Cate.**

* * *

 **Two…..**

 **Chapter 41**

Anne awoke early on the morning of the wedding, the sound of birdsong in the hedge beside the schoolhouse, and Mr Saddler's prize-winning herd of cattle calling to each other over misty fields. She smiled, climbing out of bed to cross to the window- the window Gilbert had so cheekily come in the previous night. A thrill raced through her veins then- from this day forth, there would be no more separation. The starry look in her grey eyes was unmistakable, and as she went to get her robe, her door opened and within moments Anne was besieged by people talking in every direction. In vain she tried to make herself heard, however, there were people opening wardrobes and moving to straighten her bed, children running underfoot and the sound of a tea tray clattering against the bureau. Eventually, Anne clapped her hands, reminding everyone of her profession.

When all eyes turned to her, she smiled. "I can't listen when you all speak together!" she said, turning to Susan with a loving look. "Susan, darling, weren't we all going to have a leisurely breakfast together? Is there anything that we need to do so urgently at six in the morning?"

Susan patted Anne's arm, nodding briskly. "Of course, Anne, dearie. I have fresh rolls about to come out of the oven, and I'll move your tray out to the table." She pressed an unexpectedly tender kiss on the top of Anne's head and proceeded to chivvy the children from the room. Anne's smile was completely serene as she pulled the loose wrapper from the hook, and Phil and Diana gave each other a bewildered look as they stepped outside her door to wait.

"Were _you_ this calm on your wedding day?" Phil asked curiously.

Di chuckled. "Not me- I kept threatening to faint. Anne said she would dunk me in cold water if I did, and couldn't understand why I was so worked up. How were you?"

Phil snorted in derision. "Oh- let's see, by breakfast I had already argued with my mother twice. If I remember correctly, I burst into tears telling Anne to tell Jo that he didn't deserve to be punished by marrying into my family and that the wedding was off."

"And what did your chief bridesmaid do about that?"

Phil scowled, crossing her arms. "She called my bluff. She said alright, and went to do it."

Diana began to laugh. "So naturally you stopped her-"

"Yes, and the cheeky thing turned around and reminded me that he chose me, family and all; and that gaining me was worth any pain for becoming a Gordon by extension."

Diana smiled. "That's our girl."

Phil shook her head. "I can't believe it. She's so very calm- and I mean, this is the girl who becomes over-excited about trees," Phil said, bewildered.

Diana looked at Anne's door consideringly, however, before she could say anything the two of them jumped in alarm at the boisterous shout that suddenly came from the closed room. When the door opened a flushed and dishevelled Anne stood there beaming with her robe shrugged on carelessly. "Goodness, I needed to get that out. Tea, ladies?"

* * *

As preparations buzzed throughout the house, Anne moved through the timetable she had set up for herself without fuss. Susan had heated the water for a bath for her, and Anne sank into the lavender and rose-scented water, the hair that had been so carefully washed the day before pinned up out of the way. When she was sufficiently relaxed, Anne climbed from the tub carefully, drying herself of the luxurious towels Susan had left out for her, and dressing in the pretty chemise and undergarments made especially for this day.

A short time later, Diana came into Anne's forget-me-not room with a bright smile, to find Anne sitting down in her robe, brushing out her long, softly curling hair.

"Are you ready to dress now, darling?"

Anne looked at her consideringly. "Isn't it rather early, Di?"

Diana sat down on Anne's bed with a comfortable sigh. "It is- thank heavens. I could use some time off my feet."

Anne smiled, settling back into the comfortable chair. "Thank you for everything you've done, Diana- I couldn't have done this without you."

Diana gave her a loving look. "It's been my pleasure, Anne. I've waited a long time for this day."

"Haven't we all," Anne stated dryly.

"Oh- I took your bags across to the house yesterday, everything is waiting for you there- and I had to make Gilbert swear that he wouldn't move anything I'd placed in the nursery."

"In the other _bedroom_ ," Anne corrected, her cheeks flushing. "We said we wouldn't call it that until it was needed."

Diana laughed. "Fine. But I expect to start calling it that soon enough. I laid out everything as you asked me to on the bureau. Are you sure you will be able to undo that creation?" Diana asked Anne uneasily, looking at the beautiful wedding dress, adorned with rich, creamy lace and satin.

Anne smiled. "I expect so- I did ask Madame to make the gown easy to remove- she knew that I might find it difficult."

"Anne, I know we haven't much time, but is there anything you wanted to ask me about tonight? You can, darling; anything. I wouldn't want to think you were too embarrassed- or too proud to ask me something like that."

Anne's grey eyes were filled with laughter. "Di, darling, don't you remember the conversation we had when you returned from your honeymoon?"

Diana frowned at her. "When?"

"The one just before I went back to Redmond."

Diana looked at her in consternation. "Anne, I would hardly have called myself an expert then-"

Anne was doubled over in laughter by now. "Oh, but you _did_ , Di- you assured me that after two months you knew all there was to know."

Diana began to chuckle, embarrassed. "Good heavens, was I ever so arrogant?"

Anne wiped away tears of laughter, trying to sober herself. "Diana, I assure you that you sounded like an expert to me. That along with Mrs Lynde's yearly lecture before I went back to college seemed to cover everything."

"Don't you believe it," Diana said firmly. "Goodness, if I could go back and tell my younger self a few things, I would."

Anne stood up with a smile and moved over to sit by Diana on the bed. "What would you tell yourself, Di?" she asked curiously.

"Well, not what goes where, that is fairly self-explanatory-" she said, amused, earning a snort from Anne. Diana smiled, caressing the ring on her finger. "I would tell myself to relax about everything," she said slowly, "And not to be so worried about what other people thought a good wife was. I wouldn't listen a bit to what the older women said about not enjoying making love with your husband- and I wouldn't let anyone else's opinions have any weight in our bedroom other than my own and Fred's. I was terribly uptight for the first few years, which is exactly what I was taught to be." Diana turned to Anne with a knowing smile. "That's the wonderful thing about you, Anne," she said warmly. "You never listened to the old biddies, and you are ever so much smarter than I was- so you can go into marriage determined to enjoy it all from the beginning."

"And I am." Anne frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I do have a few concerns, Di- although I'm not worried, not really."

Diana looked at her consideringly. "Is it anything I can help with? Or Phil, or perhaps even Mother?"

Anne chuckled. "It's not that I need you to ease my mind exactly- I just wonder what I should be expecting. I am quite disadvantaged, I think, marrying a doctor who knows a good deal more than I do on what is to come."

Diana snorted. " _Advantaged_ , you mean, my dear. Trust me on that."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Well, of _course_ , Di. I- I just don't want to disappoint him."

Diana gave her a loving look. "Anne, you goose, it isn't _possible_ for you to disappoint him."

"The past eighteen years would seem to disagree with you, there," Anne said quietly, making Diana stop short.

"Of course, Anne. I wasn't thinking." She slipped her plump hand into Anne's, and the two of them sat on the bed in the morning sunlight for a time. "I think, dear, that you will find that it will all just happen," Diana said softly. "Anything you have been told in the past won't matter, it will just come from who the two of you are. That's how it works. You will learn together, you will take care of each other, you will laugh and cry and have a wonderful life and make beautiful babies to fill that nursery, and then I will be _Aunty_ Diana at last."

Anne smiled, looking across at her beloved friend. "And that's all there is to it?"

Diana's eyes twinkled. "Well- perhaps there is a _little_ more to it than that."

"Which is why I suggested that we talk," Anne said, mildly exasperated, and the pair of them laughed. Anne lay back with a sigh, dreamily watching the way the shadows of the leaves moved in the morning wind. "Well, I suggest you be forthcoming now, Mrs Wright, Susan will come knocking on that door soon, I believe."

The two were able to talk undisturbed for a time, and their discussion had both women in stitches. Diana was as candid as her friend had requested, and eventually, she sat up with a chuckle. "Oh dear- I hope I haven't given you too much information, darling."

Anne grinned cheekily. "No, indeed, Di- although I imagine that was a very different conversation to the one Mrs Lynde would have given me."

This made Diana chuckle. "Don't be so sure, Anne. She was not convinced my mother would do the job properly, and insisted on having a 'word' with me the day before my wedding- and it was by far the most graphic description of sex I have ever come across." She stood up then and gave Anne a brilliant smile. "And now, my darling, if your concerns are truly allayed, then it really is time we were getting you dressed."

* * *

There was silence in the sunlit bedroom when Anne, at last, turned around from the floor length mirror. Phil and Diana stood side by side, both black eyes and brown tearing up at the sight of Anne in her wedding dress. Susan's mouth was trembling as she beheld her girl standing in the finest creamy white gown, the slope of her breast tapering down to a deliciously tiny waist- the soft folds of satin falling into a small train behind her. Penny stepped beside her in her blue dress, reaching up to carefully adjust the lace-edged veil. Anne smiled at them all, her cheeks pink. "Well? What do you think?"

It was Phil who found her tongue first. "Honey, you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen," she said, her voice unaccountably soft.

Diana stepped forward then, the amethyst brooch in her hand. She met Anne's eyes, sparkling with tears. "I know it should be Marilla who is doing this," she said softly. "But I'm honoured to be able to do this in her stead." Carefully, she pinned the brooch to the dress, the sight of the purple stone making Anne's breath catch.

"She would say that my sleeves were too big," she said, with a faint gulp, and Diana smiled.

"And yet she would have made sure that you had exactly what you wanted anyway, darling." Diana drew in a deep breath. "Alright, Phil, where are we up to?"

Phil summoned a bright, crooked smile. "The guests are almost all here- and Jo is waiting with the menfolk. It's almost time."

Anne moved to sit down on the chair in her room, and Penny handed Anne her bouquet, a larger version of her own tied with a creamy white ribbon instead of Penny's blue one.

"Are all of these flowers from your garden?" she asked.

Anne smiled. "And that of Ingleside- it has some wonderful roses that Susan and I can't wait to begin work on." She looked down at the bright red, pink, and white roses, together with the wildflowers that Anne had always loved.

Penny knelt down beside her, her eyes twinkling. "Now, Jeremy has assured me that he has triple-checked the aisle himself, and he says it is a point of pride with him that you make it all the way to Gilbert safely. If you see me stumble, then for pity's sake, don't step where I do."

Anne chuckled. "I rather think everyone will be watching me nervously in any case. No matter, we are each walking towards doctors, and we will be fine. Now, are you ready, Penny, dear?"

The younger woman stood up with a smile. "I am."

After the girls had exited, and Penny had gone to check on her family, Susan walked over to Anne, wiping tears from her eyes. Unmindful of her dress, Anne put her arms around her beloved housekeeper. "Thank you for everything, Susan," she whispered.

Susan held her tightly for a brief moment and pulled away to peck Anne's cheek, a stern look trying to mask the evidence of tears on her face. "Now, there's no need to cry, Anne dearie, you'll only be away for a short time. You and the doctor will be back from your honeymoon in no time."

Anne smiled at the older woman, knowing that it was Susan who needed convincing, not she. "I know. And Ingleside is waiting for us all."

The housekeeper moved out of the room with a suspicious sniff, leaving Anne in the bedroom alone for a moment. Carefully, she turned back to the mirror, looking at her reflection in wonder. The great seamstress had insisted that Anne not select a harsh white satin, suggesting a warmer white that perfectly suited the creaminess of her skin. Anne's hand came up to touch the amethyst brooch reverently, before tucking a red curl behind one ear. She smiled, suddenly imagining the scrawny child who bumped over red roads with Matthew, assuring him that she would most likely have to marry a foreign missionary in order to find someone who would marry her with her looks. She chuckled, now. What could that child have known of real love at that point? And she could never have conceived of the possibility of a boy who against all reason would adore her red hair.

There came a step at the door then, and Anne turned to see Diana, Phil and Penny waiting, their dresses making a pretty splash against the pale silver walls for the last time.

Diana stepped forward, adjusting Anne's veil carefully. As she did so, she turned with a smile to see her husband standing in the doorway, a slight smile on his round, red face. Diana wiped away another tear and turned to Phil with a shaky voice. "That's our cue, I believe."

Fred stepped up to the bride as the women left the room, and Anne gave him a brilliant smile. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

Fred grinned. "Honestly? I thought we were ready to do this years ago. When I had a lot more hair than this."

Anne smiled at him. "Sometimes these things just need a little more time."

Fred offered her his arm then, and he gave her a final serious look. "Now, Susan said I must check, are you sure you don't want to take your walking stick with us?

Anne looked at it where it hung on the door, and shook her head as she turned back to Fred with a smile. "I won't need it. I have you."

* * *

Gilbert stood at the front of the murmuring crowd in the garden of Rosewood Cottage, his breathing uneven, aware that he was being closely watched by the restless group of people. He drew in a deep breath, wiping damp palms on the suit his mother had so carefully pressed and smiled faintly. What had a wry Jo said to him earlier?

 _We all know that it's not good that man should be alone. But how does every wedding start? With a man standing before the gaze of the people, awkward and alone until he is joined by his bride. It's the bride that makes sense of everything._

Jeremy had found him stalking the house early in the morning, muttering the steps to random medical procedures- a trick of controlling the nerves that Gilbert had perfected in medical school. Jeremy had only clapped a hand on his shoulder, cheerfully informing him that he'd better close up his patient- his wedding was in less than four hours.

He shifted uneasily in the sunshine, resisting the urge to needlessly check his watch again. He knew what lay before them, knew that from this day forward there would be no more separation- and yet everything within him felt that it was insupportable to be away from her any longer. He needed to be with her _now_. He felt a calming hand rest on his shoulder then, and Jo stood beside him, a smile on his face as Jeremy took his place on Gilbert's other side.

"It's time, Gil. She's coming."

Gilbert turned to face the aisle, no longer seeing the people crowded into spindly chairs across the garden. Phil and Diana walked up the aisle to their seats at the front, Diana to stand with her three children. She flashed him a smile and turned to face the rear of the house with everyone else.

Penny Winston came down the old, wooden steps first, a bouquet in her hands and bright blue eyes that were firmly fixed on the young man beside him. There must have been music from the pianist, must have been low voices and the twittering of birds in the trees, but Gilbert heard none of it. He saw Fred Wright step out of the door, extending his hand to help Anne down the old steps of the house.

Gilbert's jaw suddenly trembled as she turned to face him. He hardly noticed the gown- it was the expression on Anne's face that held his gaze. She was perfection itself. The filmy white veil moved in the breeze, and he caught the smile on her face- the dear, candid glance that Gilbert knew was for him, and him alone. Her ruddy curls glowed in the sunshine as she walked toward him on Fred's arm, and he swallowed hard. He was dimly aware of the murmurs of the crowd as she drew closer, so achingly conscious of every step that lay between them. It was to him she was coming in the sweet surrender of the bride- and it was to her that he now came, as a tide turning home. This was the end of the years of hurt they had experienced- the years of love and loss and misunderstanding all fell before this moment. Whatever would come, they would face it together, now, and all fear had vanished.

Without being told, as Fred walked her to the front of the aisle, Gilbert stepped forward to meet Anne, the look of passionate devotion on his face giving Diana the odd feeling that they were viewing something rather private. Fred placed her hand in Gilbert's and stepped back to stand beside his wife, and Penny came forward to take Anne's bouquet.

Jo stood before them now, a deep contentment on his face as Anne and Gilbert turned to face him. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today," he began warmly, the timeless words of the wedding ceremony echoing through the garden before their guests.

With Anne's hands in his own and her fearless green eyes on his, the rest of the ceremony felt peripheral to Gilbert. He remembered her fingers shaking as she placing the golden band on his finger, the way her auburn eyebrow curved upward as she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He placed a smaller band beside her emerald engagement ring, and although he faintly heard Jo speaking, the only words he seemed to understand were the ones in Anne's eyes- _I love you,_ and _I'm here._ He squeezed her hand in his own, knowing that she could read him as well. As they repeated their vows now Gilbert could hear the wind blowing in the pine trees, a pair of sparrows chattering from the old hedge beside them. There was a pause when they had finished, and Anne and Gilbert looked up to see the minister smiling at them in the bright morning light. With a thrill of joy in his veins, Gilbert met Anne's burning look, his own hazel eyes alight.

Jo's voice now rang through the small garden in benediction, and Gilbert could see his mother clutching his father's hand, wiping away her tears. The minister smiled, seeing the look of sunlight on the young couple's faces, and at last, he turned to Gilbert with the words he had been waiting for, for eighteen long years.

"Gilbert, you may now kiss the bride."

There was a moment of silence while Gilbert lifted the veil from her face, and he gazed into her brilliantly green eyes before his hands cupped her face, and he pulled her into a passionate kiss to the sound of their community laughing and applauding. The guests came to their feet to move toward the pair as in jubilant tones the Reverend Jonas introduced the new Doctor and Mrs Blythe, and after a long moment, Gilbert pulled away from her. Amongst the chaos, he grinned, murmuring- "I'm sure I wasn't meant to kiss you quite like that," only to have a laughing Anne throw her arms around his neck, planting a firm kiss on his surprised mouth, her grey-green eyes sparkling into his own.

"You are perfectly at leisure to kiss me in any way you wish to, Gilbert Blythe."

The bride and groom were engulfed by well-wishers, however Gilbert refused to release Anne's hand, much to her amusement. Andrew and Fred slapped him on the back, with Jeremy wiping away tears that he later claimed were a reaction to various pollens in the air. His mother sobbed over Anne and pulled him into a crushing hug, while young Fred Wright capered around, amusing folks by telling everyone that ' _now they'd got an uncle at last'_ , a title that Gilbert admitted he was tickled pink by.

Miss Cornelia came next with a proud look, escorting their most important visitors- Mr and Mrs Barry, and the elderly woman that Anne had feared would not make it to her wedding. Mrs Rachel Lynde, now more bent over than she had been when Anne had seen her last opened her arms to the girl she had loved as her own, and a teary Anne flew into her embrace, while Gilbert stood by proudly. Rachel commented briskly on Anne's hectic colour, worried that Gilbert was letting her get too tired and that she would likely find that being a doctor's wife would mean that Gilbert would come across all manner of strange diseases in his travels- she must mind that Gilbert washed his hands before going in to the children. To this extraordinary pronouncement, Anne only laughed and allowed Diana to lead her guests to the marque that had been set up with refreshments. She and Gilbert greeted the people of their town as they came, horrifying one or two when the groom insisted on pulling his bride around the corner to kiss her most inappropriately. He would only say that they had done their waiting, the guests could wait on them instead. Anne did not disagree.

Susan and Miss Cornelia presided over the afternoon-long wedding feast, while Anne and Gilbert stood in the sunshine with their guests. Gilbert was asked many times about future plans for his practice, as some townsfolk had been whispering that he was being snapped up by one of those fancy hospitals on the mainland. With his arm around his new wife, Gilbert reassured them that his plan was to expand the Four Winds practice until he needed to take on an associate- and that he and Anne planned to raise their family in the Glen. As two older ladies walked away, Anne turned to Gilbert with a bright smile.

"I fancy you have made a lot of people happy with that news, Gil. I had no idea people were so worried about the possibility of you leaving."

Gilbert chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips for a moment. "Miss Cornelia began that, you know," he said drolly. "She told me that a single doctor was almost worse than a single minister- he might one day wake up and decide to marry a girl from another town, and be gone just as soon as they had him trained."

" _Really_? I had no idea doctors were considered flight risks. Someone really should have warned me before now," she commented cheekily.

Gilbert pulled her close to him with a grin. "Ah, but you married a Blythe, sweetheart. We're built for endurance and faithfulness. Uncle Dave came here straight out of medical school, you know- and I plan to try and equal his record before I retire."

Anne sighed, looking contentedly out on their families and friends. "That sounds wonderful, darling."

Susan had outdone herself with the high, frosted cake, and a jubilant Andrew had been put in charge of the speeches for the celebration. Jeremy proceeded to make the group laugh with various stories from Gilbert's school years, and was heartfelt in his good wishes for the pair, in turn receiving congratulations when his own engagement to Miss Penelope Winston was toasted. Eventually, Gilbert was asked to stand.

He turned to smile at Anne, who was sitting beside him with Lizzy tucked in next to her, and he grinned at the mischievous wink she gave him.

"I never actually wrote a speech for today," Gilbert admitted with a smile, bringing some laughter from the crowd. "As some of you would know, back when we were in college together, any speech I had to make was usually written with Anne." He saw Phil clap her hands with a beaming look, and he chuckled. "She always was better with words than me- and I never did it half so well without her." He turned to the expectant crowd and smiled. "We are standing here today because of the people who love us- and we thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for making this wedding happen. " He turned then to take Anne's hand, and her grey eyes met his, unafraid. "You and I have talked so much about not living with regret- at making the effort to live each day the very best of our abilities. You showed me how to embrace life again. And with you by my side, Anne, there isn't anything else I want or need. It's a privilege to love you- and it's a still greater one to be loved by you. I don't need to know what will happen in the future- but it's enough to know that you will be sharing it with me." There was great applause then as Gilbert bent down to kiss his wife, along with much laughter when a horrified Lizzie fled the emotional scene for the safety of her Aunt Penny's lap.

* * *

The sun was beginning to sink in the sky, and the afternoon was growing long when eventually Gilbert turned to his bride, seeing in her grey eyes a desire to be gone like his own. Gilbert turned to see Diana approach, and she smiled at the pair.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked quietly.

Anne nodded, her cheeks colouring prettily. "I think so."

Diana brushed the veil back from Anne's shoulder with a smile. "I think that's wise, darling- the people will stay as long as you do, you know. Susan has prepared everything for you at the house, and all of your bags are in the buggy already, Anne. As far as anyone is aware, you are leaving on your honeymoon immediately- and Susan will make very sure that no one calls you, Gilbert- she gave poor young Doctor Shelby quite the lecture about him calling you up yesterday."

Anne and Gilbert's guests came together as Doctor and the new Mrs Blythe prepared to leave, and by the time they had farewelled Andrew and Penny and Lizzie, Jeremy and Miss Cornelia, the Wrights, the Blythes and the Blakes, and all had kissed the bride and shaken the hand of the groom who was doing his best to not show his impatience, twilight was now beginning to fall over the little cottage. Susan and Sonia assured the pair that everything would be taken care of while they were gone, and that they would return from their honeymoon to find that the move to Ingleside was done. Gilbert's mother clung to the pair with tears in her eyes, assuring Anne that they would definitely be coming to Four Winds for the very first Christmas at Ingleside. That this was still several months away went unremarked, and Sonia and John farewelled their son and new daughter from the old house, her handkerchief waving as Gilbert turned his horse toward their new home for the very first time.

* * *

As the stars began to come out, a world away from the busyness of the wedding that day, and the people who had crowded the last few weeks with activity, Gilbert Blythe stood alone before the windows of the living room at Ingleside, staring out into the dimness unseeingly.

The summer evening as it fell was balmy, and the room lay in early moonlight, pale green curtains blowing in the breeze. Gilbert's tie was discarded, and he rested his hot cheek against the cool of the window frame. It was down to minutes now, not hours or weeks or months. He couldn't explain why he was waiting- why he wasn't impatiently pacing outside the small bedroom in which Anne was readying herself. He closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, somehow needing time to steady his pulse, to comprehend what would soon happen. The weight of the years spent waiting seemed so tangible at that moment- of work, and hurt and anger and an all-consuming love- all down to the single moment of them becoming man and wife. Questions that he had tried to disregard suddenly assailed him- was he worthy of her? Could he truly make her as happy as he hoped?

He turned then, hearing soft footsteps behind him, and promptly all thought left his mind. She stood in the doorway, her skin and the ivory robe she wore glowing in the moonlight like a pearl. Her long, red hair hung down over her shoulders in soft curls, and his darkening eyes swept over the satin nightgown, the soft fabric showing the curves of her breasts, the perfection of her slender form. Without conscious thought he drew closer to her, his eyes coming up to meet her own.

When he was close enough, Anne raised her hand to cup his cheek, a soft smile on her face. "I didn't expect to find myself waiting, beloved," she teased.

He smiled back, and his cheeks flushed as he took her hands in his own. "You wouldn't want me to seem over-eager, would you?" He pulled her hands up to kiss her knuckles and smiled. "I think- I just needed to take a moment first. _This_ \- you and I here together- this is what I dreamed about for all of those years."

He didn't finish his thought, however, she didn't need him to. Anne moved into his arms until her own wrapped around his neck, his hands coming up to hold her waist, stroking the satin-covered warmth of her body.

"It's no dream, Gil," she whispered. "This is happening. And I do love you so."

The smile that crossed his face was one of pure happiness, and he bent to kiss her, pulling her tightly against him. He then pulled away, his hazel eyes bright. "Would you like to see our room now, sweetheart?"

"Unless you want me to make love to you right here on the floor, yes," she said innocently, tugging on his hand when he seemingly stopped breathing at her words. Gilbert began to laugh then, never more aware at that moment that he had married a completely one-of-a-kind woman.

"We'll come back to that thought later, I think," he muttered, and tucked her hand into the curve of his arm. With a deep breath, he led her to the doors, and the look on his face was tender as he opened them, ushering his bride into the room. A shaking Anne then turned to him in wonder at the sight before her, her eyes sparkling with tears. Gilbert's chest thundered at the way she moved into the room, her words seemingly deserting her.

"Gilbert, how- how did you do this?" she asked softly, her hand reaching out to touch the beautifully carved light wood of the canopied bed. Filmy, white curtains moved around the wide bed in the wind, and the windows were open to the scent of the nearby garden.

Anne's eyes closed as Gilbert's warm arms slipped around her waist from behind, and she lifted her face with a sigh as he buried his face in her soft curls. She could feel the smile on his face and raised her hand to touch his cheek.

Gilbert kissed the palm of her hand and spoke quietly. "It was kismet, sweetheart. When I went to look at beds for us, this was in the warehouse. The proprietor thought me crazy when I went for this one first- he asked if I was trying to recreate some miserable Gothic manor."

Anne turned to him, bewildered. "Gilbert, did this man not have eyes?"

He chuckled, his hands smoothing over the soft curves of her hips. "Not imaginative ones, anyway. I thought it was beautiful."

Anne smiled in true contentment. "It is. It's the most romantic thing I have ever seen."

Gilbert turned his wife to face him, his hazel eyes loving as big hands slipped her soft, ivory robe from her shoulders, before running them down slender arms lightly dusted with freckles. For a moment he studied them, and then lifted his gaze to meet the burning look in her grey eyes. "Now, you have a choice, Anne-girl," he said lightly, tracing the creamy lace along her neckline with his fingers, and the smooth expanse of skin above it, and his eyes twinkled. "I thought nothing could be more romantic than filling this room with candlelight- however, we now have bed curtains on a rather windy night. So it's either the candles or open windows, sweetheart- but not both."

She began to laugh, placing her arms around his neck, now very well aware of the effect she was having on him. "Open windows, then, my love. Curtains swelling in anticipation is far more in keeping with tonight, don't you think?"

He pulled her tightly against him, and he bent to kiss her hungrily, his other hand tangled in the glorious red curls that fell down her back. Her soft nightgown shifted under his wandering hands, and her heady kisses caused him to give a soft moan, as he lifted her from the ground to place her on the waiting bed. Her own hands tugged him forward, and he began to laugh at the way she eagerly went for the buttons on his new shirt.

"Jacket first, sweetheart, remember?" he muttered against her lips, and she began to laugh with him, pulling back to see his beloved face. He thought he would remember her this way all his life- the bright sparkle of her green-grey eyes looking into his fearlessly, the way her hands pulled him closer to her, the sheer lace of her nightgown doing nothing to hide the sight of her sweet breasts from his gaze. He shrugged his jacket and shirt off then as she kissed him deeply, and within minutes they lay together with nothing between them, as his eyes worshiped her ivory skin, the perfection of her slender form, and the beautiful long legs that had forever been hidden. As his eyes came back to her lovely face, he caught the one small note of insecurity in her expression, the way she tucked her injured leg under the other, and unbidden, his mouth trembled as his hands came up to cup her cheeks.

"It's beautiful, Anne," he said, his voice low. "We don't need to be afraid of scars any longer."

A precious tear dropped from her swimming eyes then, and she brought herself on top of his taut body, her heart feeling as if it were pounding audibly in her chest as his arms came up to hold her. She bent to kiss him then, glorying in the way he breathed her name as his lips met hers, and she knew with all certainty that at last, she had come home.


	42. Chapter 42, Epilogue

**Epilogue**

With the hooting of a night owl, Anne flew up in bed with a start; wide grey eyes darting around the still dark room. She placed a shaking hand on her chest, trying to slow her breathing again. The bed moved beside her, and Gilbert came up on one elbow to pull his wife close, hushing her gently. Anne fell back against her pillow again with a deep sigh. He tucked her in close to his body, his arms surrounding her easily.

"Gil, when did you get home?" she whispered, turning her face to burrow into his shoulder, while he brushed the red hair from her cheek.

"An hour ago. The rain only just started. What are you doing up?"

Anne sighed, her hand coming to rest on his chest. "I- it was a dream, I think. Images, shapes- but nothing I could understand."

"But not good?"

In answer she pulled herself even closer, her red head resting against his heartbeat. There was silence for a time, and Gilbert began to think she had gone back to sleep when she suddenly spoke.

"I can't explain it. But I _felt_ it. I was alone- and you and I were divided. Just like those terrible problems we used to wrestle with in school when one part was taken away, and neither would add up to a whole again."

She felt Gilbert's chest lift with a chuckle. "That may just have been for you, sweetheart. Numbers never did what you wanted them to." He ran his fingers along the braid on his chest. "But I know what you mean. We're not, though- we're here. Where we were always meant to be."

Anne lifted her face to study the one so close to her own, needing reassurance. "Do you really think that? That after all of my mistakes, you were meant to be with me?"

Gilbert smiled. "Yes. And after all of my many mistakes, you were meant to be with _me_ , Anne-girl. There's no other possibility."

His warm hand cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes in contentment. She didn't have to explain the pain she had felt, the memory of the loneliness that had woken her from sleep. He had felt it as she had- and it was over now. She knew that the memories would come and go, haunted days that only served to make her more thankful for this glorious present.

His fingers were playing with the pink ribbon on her nightgown, and she smiled.

" _So_ , Mrs Blythe. I can't help but notice that we're both awake."

She could see the roguish glint in his eyes and laughed. "So we are, doctor. What do you propose we do about that?"

He bent in to whisper something that made her smile, however at that supremely interesting moment, a soft knock came to their bedroom door. Gilbert sighed, and with a wry look, he climbed out of bed, his bare feet padding across the floorboards. He opened it to a sight that made his heart melt- a tired looking Susan holding his curly headed daughter, who was clearly as awake as both of her parents in the middle of the night. Gilbert took her from the housekeeper's arms, her chubby hands reaching immediately for her father's nose.

"She was chattering away in her crib, doctor, and she just won't go back to sleep."

Anne chuckled. "Bring her here, dearest. She might need a feed to settle her again. Susan dear, you were up so early yesterday, please go and rest now."

The housekeeper gave a sigh of relief and left the family together. Gilbert closed the bedroom door and carried the baby to her mother, her cheeky grin huge on her piquant face. He sat beside the two of them on the bed, content to just watch. Anne spoke to the little one as she always did, and for a moment she snatched her close for a cuddle, reassuring herself, he knew. She lowered the baby to her breast, stroking the silky red curls on her head as the four-month-old began to suckle.

"Is she alright, Gil? Do you think she is gaining weight again?" Anne asked softly. A bad attack of bronchitis had given the family some anxious moments in July, and it had taken many weeks for Anne to lose the worry in her voice. The baby then broke away to coo at her mother, and Gilbert laughed, reaching down to lightly pinch the chubby leg of Rilla Blythe.

"See? She's fine, now, sweetheart. You can see how much she's gained in the last month." He slipped his arm around his wife and kissed her forehead. "So much so, that I was wondering if you would like to go on a trip."

Anne looked up at him, startled. "Where would we go?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Home, if you like."

Anne's look was indulgent. "Dearest, _this_ is home."

"Well, our other home, then. Mother's birthday is in a few weeks, and I thought the three of us could take the train down, and stay for a week or two."

He watched Anne carefully, trying to gauge whether or not she was happy about the idea.

Anne looked down at Rilla's little hand grasping her finger thoughtfully. They hadn't been back since the spring before the wedding- Gilbert's practice had steadily grown, and he had been as concerned as he was elated about the impending birth of their first child. Anne smiled, remembering the way he and Susan had hovered over her anxiously, despite the peace Anne herself had felt.

"It's autumn, love. Lover's lane will be filled with colour- we could visit our old haunts, see the sunshine on the Lake of Shining Waters, and we can introduce Rilla to the Wright children at last. Stephen Montgomery is moving to Springfield to set up his practice next month, he will hold the fort here for a fortnight if I ask him to."

Anne drew in a breath. "It sounds- well, it sounds wonderful, Gil."

He smiled. "To be together as a family without any distractions sounds like heaven, doesn't it?"

Anne's eyes were distant, and Gilbert waited patiently. "We could call on the Williams family," she said softly.

He bent down to look into her eyes, his look loving. "Only when you're ready, sweetheart. Green Gables will always be there."

Anne rested her head against the headboard with a sigh, stroking her daughter's soft cheek. "Is there a way that we could we go to Hester's garden again? I know that it's far- but it's been so long since you and I have been there together."

Her grey eyes looked up at him wistfully, and Gilbert smiled, knowing he would not be able to deny her anything. He pressed a kiss to her red head. "Maybe you and I could ride out there together… and we could even let my mother look after Rilla for a few hours. You know she'll only be too happy to shoo us out of the door- and there's a whole lot of garden to lose ourselves in."

Anne laughed. Sonia had only been to visit them a few weeks ago- greatly vexing Susan whenever she would cart a giggling baby off without any warning. Her mind turned once more to the delights of their hometown- the woods she had revelled in, the schoolhouse the two of them had attended, even the hall they had once painted blue. The ghosts she had been so afraid of were gone now- and she would be able to visit Marilla and Matthew's graves once again- to one day be able to tell her small daughter of the brother and sister who had given her a home and love and a family. She looked up at her husband with a tender smile.

"Alright. Let's go home, Gil."

He bent to look into her starry eyes and smiled. "We will. But you are right- my home is wherever you and Rilla are, sweetheart."

Anne nudged him with a gentle smile only minutes later, to see the contented look on the baby's face. He bent down to lift his now sleeping daughter in his big hands, her hazel eyes shut tightly, and her little mouth open in an impossibly tiny snore. His heart was full as he carefully carried her over his shoulder, through to the crib that his father had made, and placed her in her bed gently. For just a moment he watched her little fingers open and her eyes screw up tightly in shock, however moments later the baby girl relaxed, sound asleep once more. Gilbert carefully closed her door behind him. Ingleside was still, and heedless of the lateness of the hour, once he was safely behind his own bedroom door he leapt on their bed with a mischievous grin.

"Now, where were we, Anne 'o' mine?"

Her laughter was in his ear when she pulled him to her, and as the rain continued to fall outside, he thought back to the length of time he had waited for the two of them to be together. For the boy he had been, and the young man who had ached with a broken heart, he could only look into the grey-green eyes that had captivated him so many years ago and hold her to him with thankfulness.

All was just as it should be.

* * *

 **And this closes out Shore of Dreams. Thank you to everyone who has been so generous with reviews, thank you to all of the readers, and all those who messaged me privately, and honestly become beloved friends. It's an honour that you gave my story your time, and that you kept reading when you weren't sure of where I was going with this- I hope you have enjoyed the journey. It's been the hardest things I've ever written, and the most rewarding as well- and I've loved that I've done it in this especially kind community. Anne girls are a rare breed- you all made it special, so thank you.**

 **Stay tuned, there will be one more chapter that isn't a chapter- it's the answers to some of your questions about things you wanted to know- last chance to get them answered before I put that little 'complete' up! It will contain what I think happened in the future of this Anne and Gil- and I had a lot of fun writing that!**

 **Thank you all, and much love,**

 **Cate.**


	43. Chapter 43, Goodbye and FAQ

Dear Readers,

As promised, this is a little bonus for you all who have been following this story- no, not an extra epilogue, just a collection of answers to questions you have asked over the last few months- about parts I never went into detail about through the story, and about things that I imagine happened afterward! I rarely write a story without fleshing out far too many details- and here are some of them now. I've always said this is like book club/story club combined- consider this the special features.

As with any story, you are free to imagine the future for this Anne and Gil in any way- but this is what I have decided is my canon. This story changed a little as I went, and some parts of it were a complete surprise to me, from chapter to chapter- but the bones of it are what I worked out back when I was still writing When Tomorrow Comes. As promised, this one is shorter- although it's hardly an achievement when you look at the word count total. As I said to you any number of times, hindsight makes decisions to cut things easier- not a luxury when you write episodically- something I still struggle to do. I write my own stories terribly out of sequence. There's a lot that I would edit out in hindsight, but part of the luxury of Fanfiction is the sheer indulgence of it- I don't know that I would cut it now.

I did go darker in this story. LMM never shied away from harder facts of life- and this isn't a book for children that has to make it through a publishers censor. I can smile as I write that, you know that my stories are certainly not M rated, (and no, that's not prudery, that's just personal choice) but I didn't want to shy away from darker emotions. The others were much lighter, but I wanted to stretch myself with Shore of Dreams. We aren't two-dimensional creatures, and at times we feel hard things that we would censor from ourselves if we could. This is an older Anne and Gil than any I have written before, and in the planning stages, Anne's age here was actually suggested to me by Katherine-with-a-K: and she was perfectly right. It did change things. Could I have gone darker still? Of course. But I didn't. I wanted to unravel the whole thing slowly though- I know everyone got impatient in the beginning, but if I was going to twist this pair up this much, they needed time to learn to trust each other again. We've always seen Anne oblivious and Gilbert barely keeping the way he feels in, I had a lot of fun reversing that- and I made him fight it as stubbornly as she ever did. One of my favourite lines to write was Gilbert's " _So this was what it was like to be in love with Anne Shirley all over again._" After 26 chapters, that was such a relief….

Now, you made me laugh when a few of you were worried that Anne's dream meant that she was going to wake up in canon, or Gil was going to wake up after the fever- no. That was never the plan. Anne's dream was actually a deliberate echo of the one Gil had back in chapter 5, where it was raining, children were asleep down the hall, and Anne was in bed beside him- I wrote the epilogue with that in mind. His dream came true.

 **So, firstly, the most commonly asked question….**

 _Leslie and Owen_

I did have Owen planned from the beginning. It's clear in canon that he and Anne are good friends- her marriage, and his love for Leslie keeps the two of them completely safe. Here, there is none of that. Leslie is missing and he is broken-hearted, Anne is single, and Gilbert doesn't even look like he's a contender in this game. So all bets are off. Now, I was asked why some fanfics make him a villain- truthfully, I never knew anyone else who did! I broke him, basically. He's melancholy and romantic anyway, I just broke his heart- and let's face it, that doesn't bring out the best in any of us. That he still hasn't come to terms with the past and blames everyone else, that's his flaw. It was needed, I think- if Gil was to know that Anne wasn't settling, she needed to get a real offer from someone else- and let's face it, Owen Ford would have looked pretty damn intimidating, and been exactly what he feared, after Roy.

I was worried about this little side story, however, I'm glad to say that it did what I wanted it to. I needed something to pull Gilbert out of his complacency, but I didn't want him to flare up in ridiculous jealousy, either- because he isn't a boy, he's grown man with a lot more experience under his belt. It didn't make him any more friendly to Owen, some of you commented that Gil wasn't a ray of sunshine to him either- and he wasn't. He's not a saint. He watched Leslie go through hell about Owen, and Owen was fawning over Anne- so he was ticked off from the outset.

In this story, Leslie is never reunited with Owen. At the end of AHoD, she was planning to go into nursing- and here, she does. I believe this Leslie fell in love with a patient eventually, someone who spent a long time in the hospital- and he, in turn, fell in love with the beautiful nurse who helped him learn to walk/sing/play the cello again. And because I am the author and can do whatever I like, she and her husband had two children- Kenneth, and little Rose.

So I mentioned in an author's note that Owen's next book is the story of a man who is caught between two women, entitled _Between Fire and Ice._ This is the book Anne and Gil find in a bookshop one year after Owen left and - after reading the premise Gilbert tried to read it, but it ended up making him too angry, and Anne was too busy laughing to even try and rescue it from the fireplace. (By the way, Anne was Fire, Leslie was Ice.) The book is written from his home in Japan, he left to try and gain some space for himself after the whole Four Winds season. The book was essentially a way for him to purge the emotions that he was so compromised by, and although he put a much better face on it than he had in real life, the book is about acceptance. Some people theorised that even with Anne, he would never have truly given up on Leslie- and I agree. She was the woman he loved. He cared for Anne, and he was fascinated with her, because she made him feel something again- and as Julie3113 commented, getting close to Anne clearly ticked Gilbert off- and that was just a bonus. If there was a world where Anne had gone with him, she would have always felt in Leslie's shadow- and he would never have stopped searching for her. IN his story, in fact, the protagonist chooses his real love- the Ice girl- and by doing so, Owen shows that he would have chosen Leslie.

In this universe though, an obsessed Owen kept receiving the paper that contained Glen Notes, had it sent to him, in the hopes that some news of Leslie would one day find him. In them he discovered that Gilbert and Anne married- and his reaction was to laugh uncontrollably, and get himself revoltingly drunk. The pieces came together for him, and he realised that the truth had been under his very nose- that Gilbert was the one she had been in love with, and he with her. He always believed that Gilbert meddled with his relationship with Leslie though, and never forgave him for that. To finish his story, I believe that he had other relationships, but was never willing to allow one to come that close again. He volunteered to go to France in 1916 to write the great war novel that his publishers were looking for, and was killed when the small village in France he was staying in was attacked. No part of the war novel was ever found.

 _Anne's Journey_

This all started with Anne, of course. I don't know where the idea for the accident came from- it wasn't because Gilbert needed to save her, I almost saw her injury as a side issue with them, not the main plot point. I pictured the Anne who got off the train for the first time in Four Winds- a little older, matter-of-fact, dignified, walking with a limp and in mourning. I loved the idea that she wouldn't have been instantly recognisable as the Anne that we know- but that to the people of Four Winds she would merely be a successful teacher who happened to be crippled- and that it was all she would let them see. There would be gossip, wildly wrong and occasionally right- but it was only Gilbert who would see in an instant that she wasn't the girl he remembered. I walked a narrow line with her here- she couldn't be self-pitying, she had to just make the best of it, and she needed to remain independent as much as possible- but she has learned to do hard things, and won't shy away from them- including the man she loves.

I had to figure out why she wouldn't know about Gilbert's life, and why he wouldn't have known about her either- so of necessity, I removed him from the Island for two years. I also wanted him settled in before Anne gets there- there's the sense that she's on his turf now, almost trespassing. And of course, she is Anne- even in the trauma she's been through, deep down she's still herself- she makes friends, works hard in her school, and tries to remain independent, all while having to depend on her housekeeper entirely- and eventually is forced to admit that she does need a doctor.

As flighty and dreamy as Anne can be, she was still raised by Marilla. So there is a very practical training there, and I decided that in the wake of Gilbert's typhoid, her own disappointment in herself at what happened with Roy and a heart that was completely shattered when she realised that she loved Gilbert (not to mention the Pringle complications in Summerside) that to get through everything, she shut it down. I saw her pushing those raw feelings deeper to keep moving- although I believe she was still very much herself at the time. The last two blows were the ones that seemingly changed her- the accident, and Marilla's death. We don't come out of grief the same way we went in- and I didn't want Gilbert magically changing her back. Yes, they knew each other, and yes they gave each other freedom to be themselves- but they aren't who they would have been had they reconciled after typhoid. Not worse- only different. We can't be the same- I am endlessly fascinated by the way that random circumstances affect our lives.

As to her foot, I didn't think it realistic that she be healed fully- and that was okay. The real healing had to happen inside her. I decided that she would be much better in the years following the operation, able to walk without her walking stick on her good days- but that she still needed it from time to time. I liked the idea of Anne learning to rely on others- of finding the sweetness of being interdependent, and also being able to surprise Gilbert by not being the eleven-year-old who broke a slate over his head. We do grow, we do change. I wanted that to unsettle him from the beginning- she had to be different, but I wanted him to realise that she's not the same girl who pushed him away all those years ago. Actually, it gave me a lot of pleasure writing a Gilbert whose world was turned on one ear- yes, we know him as being independent himself, ambitious and determined- even without Anne, that was him. But we never saw him out of control, and I wanted to show a Gilbert who was rattled by her presence all over again. Anne is revered in literature for being who she is, idealistic, strong, and is certainly no damsel in distress. There are some people who struggled with any signs that Anne was weak in this story, however, I felt it important to acknowledge that we still need people- and Anne needed Gilbert, Susan, Diana and many others at times. Keeping the main characters themselves was something I had to continually be revising, taking into account age, the amount of time spent apart, success, failures, anger, and the practical demands placed on them both. In short, at times this nearly broke my brain. I want to take time to thank you all for how you read this and commented, you often made me question what I had written, made me go back to source material time and time again, and at times I had to decide to back myself with regards to how I interpreted the story too. I wanted this Anne to be more like her older self. I loved her impulsivity- but to me, it made sense that she's grown up, too. I wanted those things to still be in her, but in seed form- she's been operating for so long based on responsibility and necessity, especially in the last year, and I wondered what it would take to unlock that.

Anne losing Marilla was inspired by real life- I lost my darling mother six years ago now, and although the circumstances were different, grief and loss is something our family was terribly rocked by. I know many of you have missed her, I assure you it is no latent animosity towards her that made me kill her- but Avonlea defined Anne, in some ways- what happens when home stops being home? How do you find yourself again?

Someone commented that they were surprised that Anne didn't grieve for Marilla- however, the point that I was making was that she wouldn't let herself grieve for her at first- not because she didn't feel it, but that she was afraid to feel it. From experience, you can just keep going from sheer instinct, until it hits. Psychologists say we get a log-jam in our emotions- if there is something that we aren't able to process, everything else that comes builds up behind it- hence the dam metaphor. At some time, if too much pressure builds up, the dam will break. This Anne, who had compartmentalised so much after Redmond, had places she didn't let herself go- Gilbert was one, her accident was another, and Marilla's death on top of everything was just too much for her to handle. I always wanted it to be Gilbert with her when she broke down at Green Gables, even if he was there reluctantly.

I wanted to explore an Anne who had most of her world upended. I've seen how grief can change us- but I've also seen how resilient we can be, and that we really do begin to heal. I adore second chance stories- as I said when I began this, we all need to believe that they are possible. We need to know that if we've messed it up, that we can go again- and that if we hold on long enough, we'll be given another chance to seize life again.

 _And of course, Gil._

Gilbert Blythe was the first guy I ever fell in love with, and I didn't want to sell him short for anything. However, I knew that I didn't want to sugarcoat the way he responded when she first arrived. If we're honest, we all have times when we stuff it up, when we are bitter or weak- and the biggest test is how we respond afterwards. Gilbert was completely caught unaware, and in the most awkward situation imaginable. He was about to ask to court another woman, and after battling the faint spectre of Anne Shirley every time he went to move on, to be confronted by her in the flesh was just too much for him that night. I wanted him to have too much to be able to process- if he had been able to block the wife of Roy Gardner from his mind, to find Anne now in his town, single, in mourning, teaching, and devastatingly crippled- wouldn't you overreact? He saw himself getting dragged straight back to a past that had almost killed him. To me, he had to almost divorce the part of himself that was responding to Anne- he also had to divorce himself from the things he recognised in her again. I wanted him to be him though- I wanted him to still be the Gilbert Blythe we all fell in love with, who just can't help but try to make things right when he needs to. I hope he has been that here, as well.

Now there are a lot of ways I could have gone- I could have had Gil realise his feelings earlier, I could have had him be angry longer, and I could really have gone to town with the Owen thing, and have him freaked out that she was going to accept him- but at the end of the day, I didn't do that. I wanted the lines to be clear. I wanted Gilbert to be fairly sure Anne didn't love Owen, even if he couldn't give himself a good reason for thinking that. In the same fashion, I didn't want him getting mixed up and compromised with Penny, this story is long enough without trying to sort out that mess too!

I really liked the idea that the two of them make each other better. They could lead reasonably happy, successful lives on their own, but at the end of the day, Anne and Gilbert still belong together. They were both almost unrecognizable, in some ways to each other- the journey of the story was them finding themselves again, drawing the other person back again from exile.

 _Diana and Fred_

I loved who they could be for her- and I reasoned that a single Anne, even while Marilla was alive would have been around there constantly in her holidays and that Fred just got to know her, and she, him. Here it was non-negotiable- Anne needed Di, and there was no way she wouldn't become the family Anne needed. When I went through a list of people who could walk Anne down the aisle, Gil himself, Andrew, John Blythe- all had good points, and John nearly won because of the Marilla connection- but Fred was the one who made me say _aaaaaawwwww_ … so he got it! He'd opened his home to her- it was fitting to me that he should have the honour.

And then there is Di and Gilbert- I know it seems offensive in a canon world where Di and Gil are good friends, but this isn't Kansas anymore, Toto. He's been AWOL for six years, and at the end of the day, he hurt Anne. There's the deal-breaker. It's all very well to say that it took two to tango, but it's hard for a BFF to be impartial- and Di would have just broken her heart for everything Anne had been through. So when Gil shows up with every indication that he is making things worse for Anne, she was definitely going to go into super-protective mode.

 _Susan_

I did have fun with her! Anne obviously needed someone, she couldn't have lived alone. And I just about danced when I had the brainwave to use Susan Baker. She loves Anne, has a personality of her own, and she would have been such a mother hen over Anne. One of my favourite bits in this story was at the end of chapter three, with Susan holding Anne on the floor as she cried after her confrontation with Gilbert- she needed someone to step into the place for the mother she had only recently lost. I never wanted her to replace Marilla, but as I can attest to, when we lose someone others can help us to get back on our feet again. That was Susan's role here. I also loved the idea of her scoping out the gentlemen who came to call, but not reading them as Anne does- she adored Owen in canon, so I thought it should continue here; and I liked the idea of her liking one suitor, while Gilbert is just coming and coming. She was suspicious of the way that Anne and Gilbert just are together- they argue, they know each other, and can't help but fall into old patterns of intimacy with the way they relate. And she couldn't help but worry, she could see how he affected her girl- he did make her cry in the beginning. I also chose to illustrate some of the ways Anne shut down from her usual confiding manner- she didn't talk about Gilbert with anyone in the books, (at least, not willingly) and I decided that she definitely wouldn't talk about Gilbert with anyone from the Glen, even Susan. It's too close- and everyone knows everyone too well there.

 _The Winstons_

So Penelope Winston exists because I felt it important to acknowledge that Gilbert did have chances to move on- he is a rather upstanding person, and let's face it, he obviously didn't think there was a chance for he and Anne anymore. He needed someone to be around who was pleasant, and safe so that he could see her without dating, or gossips questioning their reputations- thus Andrew Winston was born. Plus, I was always annoyed that Gilbert never had any guy friends, real ones- and I made Andrew him. He needed to be intelligent, and kind of be the light-hearted side of Gilbert that had been missing. All work and no play, etc. Plus, the three Winstons anchored Gilbert in the Glen. Lizzie was basically one giant icebreaker- you want to cut tension? Get a child. And as many of you commented, Andrew's loss of Maddie was a nice reminder to Anne and Gilbert that they really needed to seize the day.

I adore Andrew's character- I think he will be one I write into his own story one day, although probably not here. I really did want to give Andrew someone in this story- however, page-time was at a premium, and there is an element of reality to his situation. Not everyone can have their fairytale ending.

 _However_ …. Since this is Andrew, I had two different plans for him. The first was the lady he was talking to at the church fete, Charlotte Linden- he and Lizzy, and she and her son form a family unit one year from this time- Charlotte becomes his comfort and stability, and he loves her to distraction. A year after the wedding, they have a little girl, finally giving Lizzie a brother and a new sister.

The second plan is more complicated- and I had actually written it as a part of the trip to Montreal- in Charlottetown, Anne is accosted at the station by Mrs Augusta Pringle, and Miss Jen Pringle. Jen, who ended up adoring her young teacher talks with them, and we learn that she is a writer/editor for the Charlottetown Times. Andrew overhears this, and jumps into the conversation, asking her if she is the J. Pringle who wrote the controversial piece on a PEI murder trial, questioning the legal precedents it set. He's intrigued by her perspective, and the now 23-year-old is invited to come to see Anne and Gilbert in their new home- and Andrew and Jen fall in love, despite being ten years apart in age. LMM always did like her age gaps… So, take your pick! I confess I was fond of the Jen idea, but it was too big a detour to take story-wise, and I cut it.

Anyhow, I really loved Andrew and Penny, as characters- so I kept writing them. Penny isn't Anne, but she was nice- and I quickly realised that I couldn't make her collateral damage from Anne and Gil- you'd all kill me! So I needed to be able to extricate her safely, without Gilbert being a jerk- and that's why I decided that he couldn't actually start anything with her. I did wonder if I could get away with having Anne and Penny become friends (after-school special, anyone?) but the two of them are pretty alone- and Penny was desperate for some company- even if the guy she kind of liked couldn't take his eyes off her new friend. It was convenient to send her home, but she needed to choose what she wanted- and her heart wasn't in the Glen. I had toyed with the idea of having her end up with Jeremy in the beginning, (and a few of you readers picked up on that VERY early) but the more I got to know Penny, the more I decided that I would do it.

 _Jeremy_

Jeremy isn't Gilbert- he loves the city, knows how to play the elite game, but has a sense of humour and a good heart too. Gilbert was never the 'let's go and play golf with dad' type, it would have stifled him- for Jeremy, that was fine.

And Jeremy happened because there is no way that Gilbert was going to be alone for the five years after convocation- and the way I see it, if you spend three years dissecting things together, you're going to end up bonding over that. He' been with Gil the whole time, fun to be around, but with genuineness too. Gil wouldn't settle for less than that. He needed to be intelligent, and as someone commented, surgeons are kind of the rock stars of the medical community. So I made him one! He also had to have been there at those few weak moments where Gil might have been able to talk about Anne. I wanted him to see Anne, not just for her leg, but for him to pick what was going on between them almost immediately. I needed Jeremy to be the doctor so that he could reflect back to Gilbert that he'd lost his objectivity. We're so used to A& G being who they are, we needed an outsider to say 'hey, Gil, this isn't normal…' to make us see just how gone he is.

 _Anne's writing_

I stopped her writing as she went to Summerside, something you all (we all) felt in this story. To me, there was a death in her when her own imagination failed her with Roy, and the very worst outcome (apart from Gil dying) happened just when she discovered what real love was. I wanted her to not suddenly see Gil and think "hey, I should write a poem about that"- it was something she left behind her completely. But I loved the idea that Gil was saying, "No, that's not right, that's not you- you need to go again." In my mind, it was a long process, of Anne learning to dream again, and to have faith in her imagination again. I had a whole section planned where Anne and Gil talk about the two poems she gave him the night before the wedding- (that was meant to be part of the window conversation) but it was just so long already, and I needed to cut it. One of them was about grief- talking about the nature of pain, the part it has to play in the tapestry of our lives. I wanted it to speak to Gil, to let him into more of those places she hadn't taken anyone before. The second was about the two of them, as I said- and believe it or not, I toyed with the idea of trying to write them for you. Maybe one day.

 _Summerside_

So I did go down a darker path with this story- however, if you think about it, it was pretty awful even in canon. What would have happened if Anne hadn't found old Captain Pringle's diary? Here I wanted to look at what might have stopped the bullying, apart from a random stash of information. And I was once asked if Anne's accident was deliberate- but no. It really was an accident.

 _Random Questions_

Okay, so there are a few questions I never answered- either I was worried that it would spoil surprises later on, or I was trying to be a bit less "hey, I promise everything will be fine,", either way, I left them alone. However, there were a few notable ones that I had no answer for at the time. Now, I have tried to find the people who asked them, but sometimes I couldn't reply if you were guests- so I'm sorry if I missed one.

 _The Horse Riding:_ how were they sitting exactly? This made me laugh- not because you asked the question, but because I actually had an answer. So this is what I pictured (bearing in mind that I am no rider). So she is sitting directly in front of him, and both are facing the front- in the story, I say that he turned her in order to secure her in front of him. He's astride, of course. She's not sitting astride exactly, but her right leg is bent like she is sitting side saddle- which was why I said that she needed to hook her leg over something. So yes, she's well and truly sitting between his legs, and he is as close as he can be- and yes, Anne does know something about anatomy! It made me laugh when someone commented on what must have been going through their minds- they are, after all, grown-ups who are hopelessly in love. It was abominable cheek for Gil to suggest doing it, and even more for Anne to say yes- but since I fully planned for them to come home engaged, I let it slide! Perhaps Gilbert fell to thinking about dissecting eyeballs to control his hormones…..

 _The Honeymoon destination:_ really, I was just trying to find somewhere different that this pair hasn't been. My next story, (whenever I begin that, let me pass out after this one first) is set in White Sands, so I didn't want to go there- I've been studying Island maps for the past few months to try and work it out. Now, it may be a bit far, but I figured if Anne and Gil married in Avonlea, positionally close to Cavendish, I think, at about midday, and had time to catch the train to Four Winds in time to see the sunset and have a nice dinner before actually getting to their wedding night; then a NOT in a rush Anne and Gil could travel from Four Winds (set somewhere near Priest Pond, I think?) and have time to make it to Victoria by nightfall? They are there for a few weeks, so I figured they had time! I loved the idea of them being totally alone for once- I never liked that their honeymoon blended into them settling into Four Winds.

 **Reoccurring Themes**

 _Ghosts_

I used the theme of ghosts a lot here, as many of you have picked up. And no, I don't believe in them- not in that sense. The introduction to Anne featured three men visiting her from the board that night- that was a deliberate Dickens illusion that was echoed in Gilbert's home with the canopied bed that couldn't shut the ghosts out. I do love a Christmas Carol... There is also a wonderful book by Adrian Plass called _Ghosts_ \- one that centres around a reunion, exploring the shadows of ourselves- who we used to be, what we expected ourselves to be as adults. These are the ghosts that concerned me, in Shore of Dreams. There were the ghosts of who Anne and Gilbert were, of the versions of themselves who had become so mistaken in each other. The ghosts also of who they were supposed to be in canon, actually, and that was the reason I set the story in Four Winds. I liked the idea of it being their place, and yet there was no them, as yet. In the end we all need to let go of our ghosts- forgiving others, letting others go, but especially forgiving ourselves, and letting go of the ghosts of who we thought we should be as well.

 _The Roses_

The roses began accidentally- I needed a name for the cottage (This is Anne, after all) and I loved the idea that the environment reflected the state of Anne and Gilbert as well- love, hopelessly tangled and needing a lot of work. I actually gave you a tiny hint of timing when Anne was talking about the roses in the fall- she mentioned that she planned to have the rose beds untangled by spring when I always wanted them to get together. I used the gardens quite by accident when things needed to be sorted out, such as Anne's talk with Mrs Blythe, and the argument between Anne and Gilbert about her operation. I was always a little sad that Gilbert's white roses were called 'love dead or forsaken', Anne's pink ones were 'love, hopeful and expectant,' and Leslie and Owen got the red roses in AHoD. So here, they got to keep the whole bunch of them for themselves- I never saw this life as less for Anne and Gil, but different- and the love they share is perhaps more intense, perhaps they know to value it even more after such a time apart. So they get all three.

 _What went wrong_

Before I began this story, my biggest problem was figuring out what went wrong between Anne and Gilbert. Others have relied on Phil's letter not coming, or on a Mrs Blythe who somehow interferes- I had to figure out my own way of separating them, and call me crazy, but I didn't want all my eggs in one basket here. I used to watch those 'Disasters Unwound' documentaries, where a disaster like the Titanic is examined- usually, it's not one big failure, but a lot of little ones. That's how I saw this one here. Josie was a part of the equation, but as you saw, not the whole. The nail in the coffin was, of course, Anne hearing Gilbert telling her to go. As to what he was actually talking about, I'll get to that later….. I did try to misdirect you a few times, although a few of you guessed early on that Gil's delirium had something to do with it.

 _The Josie Thing_

So I admit, I did up the nastiness in her a bit- on purpose. Not that I believe it was out of character, really, she hasn't been known in literary history for being a cream puff, has she? In Canon she gets a man approximately two years after Anne and Gilbert are married, pushing it to 1892-3: which falls in the time period of this story. (Can I just say, the timelines here drove me absolutely wild- I had to know what canon Anne and Gil were doing (and what was happening around them too), what their separate timelines were, exactly when the accident happened, and how long Gil would have been in the Glen for when the story began. I have large graphs drawn that still confuse me.) You have to figure that she would have been pretty annoyed that everyone else was getting married around her. She took her chance to misinform, and she was just lucky, I suppose, that Anne and Gil were in too bad a shape to fight it. Still, without her words, Anne would have stayed, despite what he had said in delirium. Gil would still have gone to see her, and all would have been well, no matter what he said- it just would have taken a fairly frank and emotional discussion that day and one that would have got them together long before September.

I had some feedback about Gilbert's revenge on Josie, saying that it was petty- and it was! Let's be honest, even the best of us want to act like that at times- and as I've already said, Gilbert isn't a saint. He's waited an awfully long time to be with Anne, and Josie was completely in the wrong. He knew it was petty, and beneath him. In my mind, he did send a wedding announcement, and ten months later an announcement that Rilla was born, however that soon ended- Josie had decided to send back her own self-congratulatory announcements to the Blythes. In one of her letters she admitted to not being sure what to do with her newborn son- and Anne saw the actual insecurity in her, and eventually the two of them formed a (mostly) cordial writing relationship- even if she did point out bluntly on a visit to Avonlea when she met the toddler, that Rilla certainly had her mother's hair. Gilbert rather uneasily judged that his pregnant and hormonal wife really shouldn't be given a chance to fly off the handle at her old nemesis, and was quick to redirect Anne towards his mother.

 _What Gilbert was ACTUALLY raving about in Delirium_

Here's the kicker- it was actually about Christine. I did have this as a part of the main story- however, I felt that it might have been over-examining the past too much- even for me. So, on the night of Convocation, an incredibly miserable and gradually getting sicker Gilbert left the dance with a party of friends, including Christine. He had a little too much to drink (I really can't stress how miserable he would have been that night) and he was brought back to awareness by Christine asking him to stay the night with her. She told him that it wouldn't be the first time she'd done it, and that she was sure her fiance was doing the same with someone. It was a business merger for their families, nothing more.

So Gilbert reacts very badly (as he would), leaves the group and goes home to throw up violently in Mrs Saunder's pot plants.

She wasn't amused.

I would imagine it would be the sort of thing that would eat him up with guilt- even though it was no fault of his own- he was in her company for two years, after all, and hadn't suspected she would do such a thing. So in delirium, what he was saying was that she needed to go- that he was better off without her, and that she was unfaithful. After the typhoid though, I wondered if he would even remember the incident.

I don't think it would have changed much to know it- which is why I left it alone. The point was, of course, it wasn't Anne- but the poor darling believed it was for six and a half years. Was this enough to really affect everything? I think so, yes. She had just found out that she loved him, and LMM says that she was haunted by a miserable fear that her mistake could not be rectified. What she heard from Gilbert seemed to confirm that- and it completely broke her heart.

 **So what happens in the near future?**

Jeremy and Penny's wedding comes off in early December, and Anne, Gilbert, Andrew and Lizzie make the long trek again- only this time Gilbert was able to get Anne to sleep most of the way- at three months pregnant, even teaching 2 days a week was exhausting, and in late November she was relieved to hand the class over to the very competent Rebecca. Anne still continues to tutor the Queens students for some years, who claim baby Rilla and her siblings as honorary classmates- and brag that they know the cheerful Doctor Blythe and Ingleside _personally_. Anne continues to be an advocate for the poorer students, and they provide meals for many years- until a more formal committee is set up by the board to address the issue, and works to give opportunities to students who want to further their education and can't afford it. She is also asked to serve on the board of the school some years down the track and advised with regards to supporting the High School in Lowbridge.

Anne and Gilbert stay in a small motel not far from the Winston house, and enjoy the time alone- they are, after all still newlyweds themselves- and she has an adorable baby bump by now that Gilbert can't keep his hands off.

Penny is a beautiful bride and Jeremy is almost bursting proudly. His house by the river becomes their new home, after being modernly furnished and well equipped for the newlyweds as the Winston's wedding present to the pair. Mr Winston insists that Anne and Gilbert come on a carriage ride around the city with him while they are there, saying that he was _sure_ they weren't concentrating when they were last in Montreal…. The Barnes/Winston wedding is everything you would expect- big, all of the social elite are there, capably held in line by Louisa. The reception is at the house, at Penny's request, an evening dinner and dance under glittering chandeliers. Gilbert is proud as punch to dance with his wife that night- she feels safer doing so since the operation, however, she prefers to be nearer to the side of the room in case she stumbles. Andrew is the only other person she will trust herself to dance with, apart from Gilbert and Jeremy.

The couple return home to the island alone after a week away, as Lizzie and Andrew, stay in Montreal for Christmas- and the entire trip home is spent in their cabin, both catching up on lost sleep.

Christmas is at Ingleside, however, I'm not going into that. As Anne might say, I have a little cocoon of an idea- if I can, there's a little one-shot chapter I have in my mind about Christmas that I might write as a Christmas present to you. We'll see if my kids' holiday plans allow for that… but I will try.

 _Aunt Mary Maria_ \- that crazy never happens. During the years of exile she made the mistake of twitting Gilbert about some unworthy red-headed girl he had reportedly been in love with, reminding him that he was an only child and must marry well- and Gilbert is so livid that she invoked Anne that he blasted her in his rage, and she never spoke to the son of her cousin again. No loss to anyone.

 _And the dinner with Christine_ \- also never happens. Gilbert in this timeline knows that Anne never did tolerate her well, and while he shows her the invitation just to see her eyes turn green (and perhaps to provoke her in all the ways he likes) the two of them decline it to spend the evening alone while Susan puts the children to bed.

 _ **And now for the really fun bit!**_

 **The Children of this Anne and Gil**

Now, as to the future children of this Anne and Gilbert- here, I had a field day. So I settled on them having five children- they began a little later, and if there had been no passage perilous in the way that there was with Joy and with Shirley, they may have been a little more relaxed about when they stopped…. I was really keen on none of them going to war, but I just couldn't see Gilbert in a household full of daughters- he needs his sons too. I even tried to play with their ages to avoid it, but no. It's a reality, even in a post-fanfic-universe. So they are really only four years behind in starting a family- however, they would simply be different children, different birth orders, different looks- But I kept some things the same. I named them keeping in mind who was in their world- sadly, no James, but plenty of other beloved people in their world.

As you of course already know, Marilla Joy Blythe: born May 1895. Young Rilla was originally going to be Joy, however, I felt that in this continuity, Anne and Gilbert would have named her that in honour of Marilla. She's not exactly like Rilla- she is beautiful, of course, loads of spunk, but with her parent's ambition and desire for learning. She also has the responsibility that comes with being the eldest child as well. I always loved that some of the Blythe children having their mother's hair and their father's eyes- so Rilla is red-headed and hazel eyed, just as she is in canon.

Next are the twins- Matthew and Diana: born April 1897. Matthew is Jem completely, looks and personality, and would often be mistaken for being Rilla's twin instead. Bigger than life, adventurous and bold. He's got Gilbert's mischief and that strong moral code. Anne's twins weren't alike in canon, and they aren't alike here- his sister has brown curls like her father, and is a much more gentle personality- unbeknown to Anne or Gilbert, very like Anne's own mother. She has all of her mother's imagination and her grey eyes, but in a very different form- her family is her world and they are very protective of her. In my mind this pregnancy would have been physically much more difficult for Anne, thus explaining a bigger gap after the twins. Now, I know it could have been a surprise that there were two babies instead of one- but Gilbert's no newbie, and I think he would have been looking at Anne's dates and size, and figured it out reasonably early on- especially when poor Anne reports that she is being kicked on both sides at the same time. You can imagine that bed rest featured quite prominently for this one- although all was well, Diana just had a bit of catching up to do with her bigger brother. I imagine that Rilla would have had to step in on the playground to stop hot-headed Matthew taking on anyone who teases his twin. The girls are very different, however Anne is close to both of them.

Johnathon is named after his grandfather, (Born Dec 1900) and is far more practical- scientific, orderly, and dry-witted, and in my imagination, like LMM said of another of her characters, "he will never make a quixotic decision- but if he did it would supply the one thing lacking in him." ( _Kilmeny of the Orchard_ ) Matthew's sole goal in his younger life is to rile Johnathon up- and manages it often. He is the most like Gilbert as far as looks are concerned, although he has missed out entirely on the more whimsical side of the Shirley-Blythe family.

Lastly, Walter- born in November 1902- steady, humorous, but with an untidy mop of red hair that drives Susan mad. He's an easygoing kid, wanders in for meals when he thinks of it, just as inclined to get lost in the woods as his parents. Family legend has it that as a teenager he slept on the verandah one night, because he couldn't be bothered to come inside- and was found by his father when he got home at one in the morning from a call.

And no, there was no Susan/Shirley type situation- she loved the five of them equally, although perhaps she had a soft spot for gentle home-dwelling Diana.

This is more for my own amusement, but here is what I think happened in their futures:

The Meredith's are a little older than the Blythe children, although I think Carl (?) would be Matthew's and Diana's contemporary. Rosemary still marries John Meredith, and the two families are friends, just as in canon- Matthew looks up to Jerry enormously, and Faith and Rilla are close, Una and Diana are friends and Bruce has the boys just a little closer to his age!

Rilla was nineteen when the war began- and she is in love with Jerry Meredith. Jerry wouldn't say anything to Rilla as he was leaving, thinking it best, however, this is Anne Shirley's daughter, and so she goes to him to tell him that she loves him in no uncertain terms. Rilla completes her BA by 1917, and teaches throughout the rest of the war at the Lowbridge High School. When Jerry comes home, the two of them are married.

Matthew is only 17 when war is declared, and he- like Jem in canon- is chafing at the bit to enlist. He does, and when he finds himself on the front line, he is recognised for his leadership, however, it is the thing that makes his decision that he will become a doctor like his father. After the war, and during medical school, he meets Lily Blake- Jo and Phil's little surprise bundle, born the same year Jonathon was, and the two are married. (and Phil and Jo's other baby _was_ a girl- named Priscilla Anne, eventually making two boys, two girls. The girls are the ones who drive their Gordon grandmother crazy.) Matthew Blythe becomes a surgeon in Kingsport, proudly encouraged by the famous Doctor Jeremy Barnes, who still calls Matt's father a glorified butcher when he and Penny come to visit them in the Glen. (Jeremy and Penny have three children- all girls, all stunning, and all of them make Jeremy very nervous as they approach adulthood and boys just like him start calling.)

Diana Blythe struggled terribly with Matthew's going to war, and the family are very concerned about her after he has gone in 1915. To combat her anxiety, Gilbert decides that she needs to keep herself occupied- when she doesn't want to go to Redmond with her sister, she begins to learn to nurse at his side, and becomes his right hand- something Gilbert needs at this time too. I think in her mind Rilla and Matt are the big personalities in the family- she feels unseen compared to them, and yet by doing this, she learns her own strength, and that she is valued exactly as she is. I think she married a young man from the Glen, the local apothecary, intelligent, (and someone Anne declares as the perfect boy to bring home to your parents- shy, a little awkward, but a heart of gold- she was always going to adopt him.) He was someone she had cause to see a lot in her father's work and got to know him slowly over time- much more her style than her impetuous older sister, who fell in love hard and stayed that way.

In my mind, Gilbert DID take on a partner in his practice. It's always evident in the books that he's insanely busy, and I don't think that changes, but I think he would have been all too aware that he needed to not work himself into the ground, that Anne needed him. They had a pretty rough start, that has to affect how you see things- I think he took someone on in about 1907- a young graduate who has a limp, so he can't be sent to war. (just covering my bases here.) I could imagine that he has a good relationship with his partner's wife, and Anne teases Gilbert that with so many walking sticks around, he really shouldn't tease them so often.

Johnathon (John) has all of his father's brilliance, although much less easy charm- something that he readily admits. Much better with complex equations than a football, he became entrenched in the Mathematical department of the college and began lecturing there when he finished college- close enough to see Matthew and Lily's young family from time to time. He is happy there, but could never bear to say no to his mother, and whenever Anne asks him to come home with everyone else, he will make the long trip home. He is not old enough to fight during the war, to the family's immense relief. He does marry eventually- a bouncy, bubbling young lady named Beth who stuns Anne and Gilbert utterly- their serious-minded son essentially fell in love with a girl like Tigger.

Walter is the fourth family member to go to Redmond, and eventually goes to work with his father- he takes over Gilbert's half of the practice when he retires. I really like the idea of there being another Doctor Blythe, one who is very different to Gilbert, but no less capable- and that it is their youngest child!

One final note on Ingleside, I always pictured it being one that expanded so naturally. When the twins took over the nursery the very grown-up two-year-old Rilla was moved upstairs, and eventually, Susan's room was surrounded by the children- which she secretly adored. Anne was able to go upstairs, however, she wasn't up and down all day, and the children simply grew up knowing that Mummy needed a little more time- Gilbert wouldn't have Anne being summoned upstairs in a hurry. I think there were still some falls, but they were less severe- and eventually, Anne had an entire household watching over her. Rilla was concerned at leaving the busy household for college- and an amused Anne had to remind her that it was time- she could take the Avery scholarship without feeling any guilt whatsoever, they would be fine at home. I see Anne pottering in the garden, dreaming under the trees- a Gilbert who has a bit more time to join her, children roaming the Hollow and surrounding forests, and the rose garden that was their especial delight. Susan still grew her calceolarias. The trek to the Mayflowers became a tradition- one that their children were not invited to. Anne and Gilbert often blessed the downstairs suite, and the nursery that was eventually turned into a downstairs bathroom when running water was put in the house. Besides- it was very helpful for the times when a heated discussion needed to be had without little ears listening- and Susan could attend to the children at night if their parents were otherwise occupied.

So there it is! What I envisioned for them was this future- together, no matter what. They have ups and downs, and as many writers are exploring right now, the war isn't so far away- but Anne and Gilbert are together, and they and Susan keep the family together well. With children born a little later, and different people, with a Susan whose love for Anne predates her marriage, with a couple starting out much older, and a little wiser. Different, but just as in love, just as committed to each other.

So thank you all- I couldn't have done this without you. I've loved reading what you think, and seeing the different things you all saw in it. Some of you made me sound even smarter than I am, praising me for things I did unintentionally! Thank you for your encouragement, and for giving it your time. Most especially to hecalledmecarrots, Lizzy, Kim, Eliza, and Alinya, fellow writers posting like troopers and reviewing amazingly- it's so fun to do this together. And to Julie3113 who often put me straight when I got myself in a tangle- thank you.

There is a plan for ' _next_ ', although give me a month or two to recuperate first- I'm still under doctor's orders to rest hard- but there is a sequel to One More Day and When Tomorrow Comes that I promised you a while ago, taking Anne and Gil through the three years apart and their first year of marriage- although I will be moving quickly over the former. I wasn't sure I would do it, actually- and then I somewhat accidentally sat down and wrote a chapter when Shore was being particularly painful.

In any case, thank you. See you soon.

Much love to you all,

Cate.


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